


A Lovers' Farewell VI and a Half: Interludes in Dana's Office

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: A Lover's Farewell by Blue Champagne [7]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Other: See Story Notes, Series: A Lovers Farewell, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We sit in on some therapy.<br/>This story is a sequel to A Lovers' Farewell VI: Love Will Prevail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovers' Farewell VI and a Half: Interludes in Dana's Office

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as part of Farewell VII, since I thought I should show a little of what the sessions with Dana that I had the characters referring to were like, but the device didn't work as well as I was hoping, so I made these segments into their own story. They should be read after VI. Scroll down to the bottom of the last segment for a spoiler warning. (The warning is not for any form of BDSM or noncon.)

## A Lovers' Farewell VI and a Half: Interludes in Dana's Office

by Blue Champagne

Author's webpage: <http://members.aa.net/~bluecham/>

Author's disclaimer: I don't own anybody but Dana, and since I see her as looking like Gillian Anderson, maybe I don't own her, either. 

* * *

A Lovers' Farewell VI and a Half: Interludes in Dana's Office 

* * *

(DANA is in her leather overstuffed chair at one end of the heavy oak coffee table, with the endtable lamp shining on her hands, which hold her pad and pen. We are predominantly at her POV. JIM, in a dark grey sweater and black jeans, is sitting on the couch at the end farthest from her, arms folded, one ankle balanced on the opposite knee, frowning thoughtfully at nothing. STEPHEN is in the chair at that end, near JIM and facing DANA along the length of the coffee table; he is in sort of an adolescent sprawl, one leg hung over the chair arm, swinging his foot slowly. Since he's not the smallest man who ever lived and he's in a designer business suit with full accoutrements, this is something of an incongruous picture. We see through the windows along the walls behind STEPHEN and JIM that outside, it is a clear, early evening.) 

DANA: Stephen, a few minutes ago, you used the word "attention" again, that time related to the attention you never received from your father. 

STEPHEN: Or from anybody but Jim. Sally loved us--still does--but we could have been any kids and she'd have loved us. It was different with Jim. He loved me for me. 

DANA: So Jim never tried to place you into an identity or role of his own devising, as your father did? Not even roles like younger brother, adversary, ally? 

STEPHEN: I don't know about that. What we had was unusual, from about the time Mom left 'til Jim took off. But we were still brothers. He still looked out for me, and vice versa after I was old enough. We still yelled and fought and-- 

JIM: (smirking) And as he'll tell anyone who'll listen, I used to hold him down and spit in his mouth. 

STEPHEN: (boots JIM lightly in the propped-up shoe with his own swinging foot) I got you more than once, too. 

JIM: When he'd win a wrestling match with me or something, yeah. 

DANA: So you had a very clear awareness of your relationship as siblings, and your interaction was largely based on-- 

JIM: (Abruptly frowns) Did you think I had some kind of sick jones for him when I was six and he was three, for Christ's sake? Of course we-- 

STEPHEN: Jim. 

JIM: (leaning back against the couch, rubbing his forehead with one hand) Sorry. Please, Dana, go on. 

DANA: (who has not batted an eyelash at the interruption) Stephen was talking about his strength of identity, his self-image, and his startlement that it's so strong, considering the lack of attention paid to his own true identity by anyone in his life... 

STEPHEN: Except Jim. Yeah, I see...we were brothers and we had all the usual brother stuff, good and bad, but we had a hell of a lot more besides that, that's all. I didn't mean to imply that...that we... 

JIM: ...didn't mostly see ourselves as brothers. We did. That never changed. 

DANA: Never? No change in that at all? 

STEPHEN: (gazes steadily at JIM, who is gazing steadily out the window) Jim? 

JIM: For God's sake, Stevie, she knows what happened. Do we really have to get graphic about it? 

STEPHEN: (sighs and turns to face Dana again) I'll answer for me. Yeah, it did change. It didn't go _away_ , he was still my _brother_ , but when I started to realize I felt more for him than just that, it...it did change. Yeah. 

DANA: Perhaps you can relate that to the kind of attention Jim paid to you that no one else did. 

STEPHEN: I know I was in love with him. I _was_. 

DANA: Do you think something you have to say will call that into question? 

STEPHEN: Dana, either I've been seeing you for too long or you're too good at this. It's just what you said about relating the attention he gave me to...to how my perception of him changed when we...you've got to understand this wasn't some kind of misguided hero-worship thing. I wasn't some blind kid, and he never took advantage of my feelings. He and I have talked about that. It wasn't that he was my...(STEPHEN pauses, dragging his swinging leg down off the chair arm and leaning forward, resting elbows on knees and running one hand through his hair) Look. Maybe it'll be easier to understand what I mean if I give you some examples. 

DANA: (Nods) That would be fine. 

STEPHEN: (exchanges a brief look with JIM; STEPHEN's expression is plainly inquiring--is this okay?--but Jim's remains neutral. STEPHEN lowers his eyes again.) The attention that he paid to me, yeah--but that he let me pay to _him_ as well. You know we lived in an emotionally sterile environment. Not just at home. Hell, even the kids we went to school with...in our Dad's income bracket, warm emotional demonstration of any kind, physical or verbal, is not looked well upon, everybody knows that. Even the other Catholics we knew were uptight that way. 

DANA: (nods) Yes, we've talked about that phenomenon before. 

STEPHEN: Well, when Jim and I could get alone, it went straight out the window. The whole damn thing. You'd've been hard pressed to find two more demonstrative brothers in an ethnic Italian family. 

JIM: (muttering) Or an ethnic Irish one, for that matter. 

STEPHEN: (glancing briefly at Jim with a small smirk) Good point. Anyway, Jim--you remember...sometimes you'd rub me down when I was sore, usually in my room, and just...rub more and more lightly until you were just stroking me, really soft, my hair, shoulders...my back or my chest, whichever side I was lying on...and you just kept on until you knew I was asleep? 

JIM: (gazes at floor) I remember. It started... 

STEPHEN: ...when I was really little. You'd kind of...I don't know, pet me. When I cried at night, some other times that we could get away with it. You'd just kind of rock me and stroke me until I felt better. You couldn't pick me up then--you were never _that_ much bigger than me at any given point--but you could still...(he trails off) I felt so safe... 

JIM: (nods, mute, eyes closed, arms folded across his chest) 

DANA: (softly) Jim, are the things Stephen is saying making you feel anything in particular? Comforted? Sad? Distant? 

JIM: (still not opening his eyes) Some of all of those, I suppose. 

DANA: Would it be easier for you to describe your thoughts than your feelings? 

JIM: (still doesn't move) I...I'm just thinking about that. Remembering doing what he's describing. The way his skin looked in the moonlight, the way it...it felt different--the more he grew, the way he changed...the texture of the muscle wrapping the bones, becoming more pronounced...when I noticed you were going to start shaving soon...sometimes, I'd kiss you before I left. (Lifts his head and opens his eyes, seeming almost puzzled as he looks at STEPHEN) Carefully, so it wouldn't wake you up... 

STEPHEN: (smiling softly) I wasn't always asleep. See? Despite your allegations of it being primarily me who was the kissing bandit--and I guess I was, really--you'd do it, too. Since we were little. 

JIM: (still seeming puzzled) I thought you were beautiful. 

STEPHEN: (still smiling, quiet) I know. You told me, a lot more than once. Do you remember that? 

JIM: (shaking his head in wonder) I do now, yeah. I do. I mean, shit--I _knew_ I thought that, I didn't blank on it or anything, I just...I guess I didn't remember how _much_ I thought that. I mean, how much it--and it wasn't just your...(he squirms, rearranging himself on the couch)...your body or anything. I thought it about...all of _you_. Even when I was all pissed off at you. Even when I said I hated you. 

STEPHEN: (rolling his eyes) We were kids. We said we hated each other, Dad, any teachers or friends who happened to piss us off...kids just throw that word around when they're angry. Don't sweat it. 

JIM: (looking away) I wasn't sweating anything. I was just answering the question. 

(pause) 

DANA: Stephen, would you like to continue? The examples you mentioned. 

STEPHEN: (nods) Well, he'd do that for me, and after I got older I'd do it for him, too, just...if one of us seemed to need it, you know. We didn't really talk about it much. We just kind of radared it out, when one of us needed it, if you see what I mean. We usually knew. But if one of us was too wrapped up in his own concerns to notice, we could ask. With just a word. Hell, with just an expression. We always knew when one of us was asking to...to be with the other one that night, or the next time we could get private. I remember...touching Jim, trying to...to _see_ what I felt for him moving through my arms, into my hands, and into him. Like it was the only way I could be sure he really understood just how much I felt, because words can be damn lame in that department, as we all know. And we sure as hell wouldn't have learned the requisite language around _our_ house. 

JIM: (very quietly) Sick fuck. 

STEPHEN: (exchanges a brief smile with JIM) Exactly, stuff like that, that's my point. Remember...there were also nights we'd be exchanging backrubs just for the touch, and get settled sitting facing each other on one or the other of our beds--after each of us hit fourteen with legs and elbows and knees all in the way everywhere, but we managed. We'd work each other's necks and shoulders and arms, whatever else needed it--we were both pretty good at it, team sports made a good excuse for learning how. Sometimes we'd just wait until one of us got tired hands and kiss goodnight. But sometimes...we'd just start rubbing more and more lightly, until we were just stroking...Jim liked to run his fingers through my hair; he said I got the exact same look on my face that the cat did. (He smiles briefly, and JIM's lips twist in a smirk as he continues to stare out the window.) Sometimes we wound up lying down with each other, doing that. Sometimes we'd kiss a little while we did. Little soft ones, I mean; we didn't go to tongue until after the shower epiphany. 

But we talked, too. And we could say anything. _Anything_. It just...would never have occurred to us to use the things we heard from each other then...unless it was something we'd set up together deliberately, of course. You know. We wouldn't use them against each _other_. When we were together like that, we could look each other right in the eye. And there was no bullshit, and no barriers. There was nothing in between us. No defensiveness. He loved me, and I knew for a fact that it was _me_ he loved, and I bent myself out of shape making sure he understood that I felt the same way about him. That's not hero-worship, and it's not...unless who that other person is, is someone you _can_ love, could love no matter what your personal situation with them, that isn't going to happen. You're not going to see right into somebody's soul like that and be able to fake it. Do you see what I mean? 

DANA: Jim, would you like to add anything at this point? 

JIM: (doesn't look at her, shakes his head silently) 

DANA: Then, was there anything else you wanted to elaborate on before we go on, Stephen? 

STEPHEN: Well...like I said. The attention. All kinds of attention. Just accepting that I was there-- _me_ , not some facade--being _interested_ in the fact that I was there, wanting to be involved in the fact that I was there, and wanting me to be involved with him. All Dad's rejection of me, his despising me, didn't matter so much, didn't hurt as much, because I had Jim. He made me feel real. He kept me understanding that Dad was wrong, that the way he was treating me wasn't the proper way to treat a kid--otherwise I'd just have believed that I deserved it, like most kids who get that kind of treatment do, and wound up despising myself and everybody around me. Nobody else would do that for me, nobody else wanted to know me _that_ totally, and certainly wouldn't have loved me like he did even if they had--no coach, no friend, no teacher, sure as _hell_ no relative, nobody. But what we had kept it away all those years. Oh, I loved you, Jim...it was everything. And then you left, and it was all gone-- (STEPHEN's voice breaks and he bites his lip with a sudden gasp; his eyes are wide, and he appears startled by the suddenness of his own loss of composure. JIM suddenly leans forward where he's sitting, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his hands, fingers disordering his hair.) 

JIM: (in a strangled voice) Stephen...(he trails off, shaking his head mechanically) 

DANA: (softly) It's very disturbing to you when Stephen cries, isn't it, Jim? 

JIM: (Suddenly gets up and strides from the room, slamming the door behind him.) 

STEPHEN: (spoken on a ragged, wet gasp as he wipes his eyes angrily with the back of his hand) Goddammit, Jim. Get your ass back in here. That was no kind of stab at you. 

DANA: Do you feel that Jim is angry with you, Stephen, or with me? 

STEPHEN: I feel like we might as well call this whole thing off if certain poker-assed individuals are going to keep running like rabbits whenever-- (The door opens; JIM re-enters, closes the door slightly less violently, and sits down on the couch with a thud, head leaning back to thunk against the sofa back, staring up at the ceiling.) 

(pause) 

DANA: Do you feel ready to continue, Jim? 

JIM: (thrusting a thumb in STEPHEN's direction without looking down from the ceiling) He drove. 

STEPHEN: (Just blinks for a moment, then emits a tiny snort of laughter. JIM raises his head to glare at him. STEPHEN laughs harder.) Serves you right, you prick. 

DANA: Stephen... 

STEPHEN: Yeah, yeah, I know. No name-calling. 

DANA: Jim, did you want to participate for the rest of your session today? If you'd rather not, you could wait in the-- 

JIM: (waving a hand tiredly to cut her off) Yeah. I'll participate. I'll try, at least. Can't promise much. 

DANA: Jim, can you tell us exactly why you left just now? 

JIM: (Inhales hugely, then lets out a gusty sigh, still staring at the ceiling) I think you hit it. I couldn't stand to hear him cry. (Lets one hand come up to flop against his forehead, then cover his eyes.) I could never stand to hear him cry. And knowing I was the reason he about lost it just now... 

(pause) 

JIM: (Dropping the hand covering his eyes) The things he said? 

DANA: "Things"? 

JIM: What Stephen said. About what...what we had, what it did for him. It did that for me, too. He did all that for me, too, he saved _my_ ass exactly the same way. Everything he said I did for him, he did for me. He knew me, and loved me, too. 

STEPHEN: (whispered) I still do. 

JIM: (covering face with hands again) Oh, Christ, Stephen... 

DANA: (softly) Would you feel better if Stephen were touching you right now, Jim? 

(Without waiting for an answer, STEPHEN moves to the couch next to JIM, on the side away from DANA. JIM turns and pulls him close.) 

JIM: (into STEPHEN's neck) I hate this shit. 

* * *

(We are at DANA's POV) 

JIM (slapping an old, frayed, green wirebound notebook onto the coffee table, the spring going "clack"): It didn't happen like that. I was coming _in_ to the damned auditorium, and I never "smirked" at you! 

STEPHEN: You were pissed about that thing with Coach Oltman and-- 

JIM: Dammit, I knew why you had to do that! I wasn't _pissed_! 

DANA: Gentlemen, if I may--"thing with Coach Oltman?" 

JIM: (frowns and looks away) 

STEPHEN: Dad insisted I try out for football. I did, just to shut him up, but it was pretty clear to everybody that the wrestling team had dibs on me. Jim had just been fitted for braces--that lightweight kind, but he was still in some pain, and the orthodontist insisted he be excused from practice for a few days until the bleeding and such had completely stopped. Anyway, Jim came to pick me up at tryouts; there was a high school practice going on at the same time--they were holding tryouts in the high school stadium. A couple of guys who'd been through the braces thing asked how he was, and Coach Oltman heard them talking, and proceeded to regale everybody--including the team, which Jim was currently on--with his own hypothesis of why Jim needed braces now; that being, the infamous play he biffed completely the season before. He was about two from the in zone, totally open, perfect spot to catch a perfectly thrown pass for an easy touchdown--and he tripped on a clod, missed the catch and managed to plow up a furrow in the turf with his mask. Bloodied his nose, too. Needless to say even the guys who liked Jim had a lot of fun with that, and the ones who resented him being so damn good were even harsher. And the kids trying out...they were my age group, you know. I...well, you don't stick up for the fuckup du jour, even if he _is_ your brother--hell, _especially_ if he's your brother--in front of your friends. Instead you roll your eyes and do the equivalent of asking God why he saddled you with such a loser, and you do it as volubly as possible. 

DANA: So you feel you didn't behave supportively toward Jim in front of his teammates and the boys trying out. 

STEPHEN: To understate drastically, no, I didn't. I...you know. The usual brat-kid-brother thing, taking advantage of the chance to get one over...I...look, Jim-- (he turns in his chair to face Jim where the latter is now standing by a window, leaning on the frame, looking out) I didn't know then how shitty you felt about that. I know Dad gave you hell for it when he heard about it, but I didn't realize it...it really _hurt_. 

JIM: (Very quietly) Football was the one thing I did well that--eventually--got any attention from him, and when I... 

(a pause) 

DANA: Football was one of the few areas in which you excelled where your father eventually acknowledged your hard work and good performance, and when you not only had a serious shortfall in that area, but did it in a... 

JIM: ...spectacularly stupid-assed fashion...? 

DANA: ...a fashion which called a great deal of attention to your mistake--you felt more of a blow to your self-esteem than you would have if you had performed below standard in some area that was less important to your self-image. 

JIM: (grunts) 

DANA: And this incident at tryouts happened shortly before the incident Stephen related in his journal? 

JIM: Yes, but that one didn't happen like he wrote it in his damn-- 

STEPHEN: Jim, why the fuck would I lie in my _journal_? 

JIM: Well, maybe you're NOT lying, maybe you're just WRONG! 

STEPHEN: (Getting up) I'm not wrong! 

JIM: I _told_ you I _knew_ why you had to do that! It was SOP, we always kept up the game in front of people! 

STEPHEN: Then why wouldn't you-- (he breaks off suddenly; Jim tenses; from DANA's viewpoint, we can only see their backs. STEPHEN runs a hand through his hair, his head bowing for a moment.) Why wouldn't you talk to me...? 

JIM: (silent, unmoving) 

STEPHEN (sighs and turns back around, moves back to his chair and sits down with a thud) He wouldn't talk to me. Until the night of the day after the recital. 

DANA: (Making notes) Stephen, I know your father was more concerned with your performance in sports and your academic records, but you did receive a great deal of personal validation as a result of your singing? 

STEPHEN: (pause) I suppose. 

JIM: Don't even try, Stephen. He was prouder than hell of that voice. (STEPHEN shoots JIM a glare, but Jim doesn't see it, since he's still staring out the window.) Music directors from church and school and everyplace else practically fawned on him. If word got around he was trying out for a solo in any kind of production--he did musical plays and stuff like that too, I think that's where he got the choreography idea--no one else bothered unless there was more than one solo part. He was a foregone conclusion to beat everyone else out. 

DANA: And you had been looking forward to this recital for some time, Stephen? 

STEPHEN: (careful shrug) It was a Tri-State event. We all looked forward to those; they were a big deal. 

DANA: And according to your journal entry at the time...(she checks her notes) Jim-- 

JIM: --did knowingly and with malice aforethought deliberately remove the stop from a giant pneumatic auditorium door, causing it to slam with a force sufficient to generate a displaced-air boom and knock three lighting gels from the fixtures overhead, thereby interrupting the difficult melisma at the beginning of Stephen's solo, deafening everybody with the noise, and causing the corner of a gel to conk the alto soloist on the head, knocking her stupid and raising a painful goose egg...okay, Dana, this is the part where you ask me how I plead. 

STEPHEN: I think she knows, wiseass. 

DANA: And Jim, you say you were just coming in to the auditorium at that point--specifically to hear Stephen's solo--and didn't realize that the door was broken and the stop was the only thing keeping it from slamming, so you pushed the handle a bit on your way past, dislodging the stop without realizing it. 

JIM: Exactly. 

STEPHEN: Bullshit, Jim. That door slammed, I looked that way, and I distinctly saw you spin _away_ from it and look toward the stage. And you were _smirking_. 

JIM: I was embarrassed! What was I gonna do, burst into tears? That's what you do when you make an ass out of yourself when you're a kid. You grin like you don't give a shit. 

STEPHEN: Even if I bought that, which I don't, that still doesn't explain why you were walking into the auditorium backwards. 

JIM: You must not have looked that way and seen me until I'd already turned toward the door, when it slammed, and then started to turn back around to see what kind of trouble it'd-- 

STEPHEN: Oh, right, dammit, I know what I saw! 

JIM: And I know what I did! 

STEPHEN: If you'd just ADMIT it-- 

JIM: Goddammit, Stephen, there's nothing to admit! I fucked up and ruined your solo and I'm sorry, but it was an accident! 

STEPHEN: Awfully convenient fucking accident, right after I...I pissed you off so bad you wouldn't _speak_ to me for a week! You even...(stops again, looks away from JIM, sits back down.) 

DANA: (after a pause) He even...? 

(another pause) 

JIM: (sighing and sitting down at his usual end of the sofa) You know we used to sleep together a lot, usually in my bed because Stevie liked it better. 

(DANA nods) 

JIM: There were times when one or both of us wanted to when we couldn't swing it, but we never...um... 

STEPHEN: ...turned each other down. For one thing, we knew better than to ask when one of us was too sick or in pain to put up with having someone else in the same bed. Of course, there were times we were sick or in pain that being together really helped. 

(a pause) 

DANA: Would one of you like to continue? 

(JIM and STEPHEN glance at each other) 

JIM: (turning his gaze to the floor) The night Oltman told that story, and Stevie...wasn't any help, um...he came to my room, and...I... 

STEPHEN: ...he just lay there facing the wall. Wouldn't answer me. Pretended to be asleep. And I started to get in with him--sometimes we really _did_ sleep that heavily--and he yanked the covers up around his shoulders. Tight. 

(a pause) 

DANA: (softly) And then what happened? 

STEPHEN: I...(he falls quiet) 

JIM: He tried to apologize. He'd already tried in the car on the way home. Looking back, I realize he was nervous about it--sometimes we had to do things that the other one would have taken _really_ personally if it hadn't been for the game--and we'd gotten into it, had some rough spots over things like that before, but this time...I think he could see I was more than usually pissed. He was laughing like it was no big deal, hey, we'd put another one over on everybody, right...? But when I wouldn't answer him...he asked me if I understood. 

STEPHEN: Obviously he didn't. 

JIM: (suddenly angry) Yes I DID! (Takes a deep breath, subsides just as suddenly) But it hurt to realize that there were things...serious things--well, it seemed serious at the time--things we really couldn't depend on each other for. Like backing each other up in...in just that way. I may have known it already, things like that had been happening for a long time, but never...it hadn't hit so hard before that there was nothing to do about it, that was just the situation...that because of the nature of the game, there was only so far we could count on each other--only so far I could count on _you_ \--I might have known why, and known you had to...but hell, I was a kid. You seemed to be enjoying yourself just a little too much...and anyway, the hurt of realizing that was too much to ignore. It was the first time I really admitted it to myself, even though things like that had happened before, and it was like the world fell out from under me. 

STEPHEN: Jim. I'm sorry. 

JIM: Oh, for God's sake...(Gets up and wanders off toward the windows again, rubbing his forehead with one hand) 

STEPHEN (takes a deep breath) Anyway, he just...lay there, and after a few minutes I...hell, I went back to my own room and stared at the ceiling. I didn't know what to think. I had never considered the possibility of...his not...you know. Of Jim not...letting me...(sighs gustily and rests his forehead on the backs of his folded fingers) I didn't come to his room again for...a while. I didn't cry until after the first few days had gone by without a word from him, though. It was a like a nightmare, the ones where whatever's wrong is all your own fault, so that I had no one to...(STEPHEN gulps and is silent) 

JIM: (lowers his head, silent, then lifts it and continues staring out the window) 

DANA: So, Stephen, you believed, when you wrote your journal entry, that Jim, having been hurt by your public ridicule of him in an area that was extremely important to his feelings of self-worth, took the opportunity to humiliate you in an area equally important to you. 

STEPHEN: Um...I wasn't thinking about it like that. I was just thinking that he was still pissed and saw an opportunity to mess with me and took it. Hell, I don't know--I know what I saw, but--what I wrote in that journal _is_ what I remember. I know memories can become confused, but... 

DANA: We are, as always, going on the assumption that no one in this room is deliberately lying. And on that basis, Jim, I'd like to ask you this--and answering "no" to this question is not an admission of guilt. Are you absolutely certain of your memory's veracity concerning the incident in the auditorium? 

JIM: (He is still a long moment, still facing away toward the windows. Finally, his head lowers a bit, then shakes slowly back and forth.) No. I guess it's...no. I don't know. Stevie, I don't know. 

* * *

(We are predominantly at DANA's POV. She is, at the moment, rolling her eyes and smiling.) 

STEPHEN (From flat on his back on the rug, laughing uncontrollably): Asshole! Illegal move! Get off me, you sick fuck! 

JIM (Also laughing, from on top of STEPHEN): Hah. Not ticklish my ass! (He pokes STEPHEN in the ribs again; STEPHEN squeaks, still laughing, trying to double up in reaction.) And it _still_ only gets worse when you get drunk. 

STEPHEN: I...said...get...(he can't summon the breath to continue; he is now laughing so hard he can't get a breath or make any noise. His face is bright red, shading toward purple.) 

DANA: (dryly, amused) Jim, I think you've made your point. Incidentally, if you want to touch Stephen, you don't have to do it via holding him down and giving him grief; remember, I'm a professional. I can deal with the sight of two men being affectionate. 

JIM: (chuckling) Okay, okay, I get your point. (He moves, but STEPHEN is too weak to get up, so JIM leans down to help; rather than giving STEPHEN his hand, he slides both arms around his shoulders, pulling him close, and stands them both up. STEPHEN leans helplessly against JIM, head bowed, resting on his shoulder, as he continues to laugh almost soundlessly and try to get some air.) 

DANA: I take it that despite the fact you were both rather...embarrassed, if you'll pardon the expression, this is one of your more pleasant shared memories? (She smirks) 

JIM: Fuck, we knew we were in for it. We just didn't care. Hell, everybody needs to get drunk and run naked through the streets at three a.m. at least once in their life. 

DANA: (still amused) But at the ages of thirteen and not-quite sixteen? In December? In the suburbs? 

JIM: Bourbon Street was beyond our means at the time. (STEPHEN starts losing it again, slithering bonelessly down Jim's body with one hand to his own face as though it's hurting him. JIM grins, trying to keep him upright.) We broke into the liquor cabinet after pretty much double-dog-daring each other to do it, and that should tell you right there that we were already in a sort of what-the-fuck mindset at the time. 

STEPHEN (singing--but the only reason we can understand him is that he has an exceptionally clear singing voice): "Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine...I like to drink you with a little salt and lime..." 

(DANA raises her brows and looks expectantly at Jim, smiling, as STEPHEN dissolves in hilarity again, clinging to JIM for dear life.) 

JIM (grinning): Christ, Stephen, are you high or something? (To DANA) That's what we were singing up on the Patterson's roof. 

DANA (who is clearly enjoying this): Were you already naked by that point? 

JIM: No, the tickle fight came first. Stevie kept on saying he was totally numb from the tequila and so he wasn't ticklish and don't even try, but one poke and he was squirming like a nightcrawler and begging for mercy. We, uh, wound up getting naked kind of as a result of that--you know, going for the vulnerable spots, ripping each other's shirts off... 

DANA: I've been in a tickle war or two in my time. So with the ineffable logic of the drunken, you figured... 

JIM: ...that we were most of the way there anyway so what the hell, and yeah, we just started throwing our clothes into the trees. Still singing. Since that night until I left home, any time I wanted to crack Stevie up all I had to do was start humming that song really quietly and he'd just lose it. 

DANA: (grinning) Like he's doing now. 

JIM: Stephen, Jesus. Come on, kiddo, let's sit down. (He drags STEPHEN to the couch and manages to get sat down with him, the younger man sprawling across his lap. JIM pats his back affectionately.) 

DANA: So what happened after that? 

JIM: Well, Richard Patterson had called the cops because he and Liz, his wife, thought there were prowlers on their roof. Which is kind of strange, considering any prowlers who made that much noise would be hard put to make a decent living, among other considerations. By the way, I'd tell you how we managed to get on their roof, but to this day neither of us has the vaguest idea. We liked our own roof a lot, so maybe we'd decided to shop around for another good prospect, I dunno. Drunken logic, like you said. Anyway, we're bare as two eggs and jamming around up there in the snow, singing at the top of our lungs-- 

STEPHEN: (nearly choking) "...did I kiss all the cowboys, did I shoot out the lights, did I dance on the bar, did I start any fights..." 

JIM: Thank you for that musical interlude, you goofy little shit. 

STEPHEN: (trying to get comfortable in JIM'S lap) Ah, fuck you. 

JIM: (kisses STEPHEN'S head) So the cops show up, and we're all "Ohhhh Jesus and Mary", and the other neighbors are all sticking their heads out--this was a nice upper-middle-class neighborhood, you remember, the cops showing up was a damned unusual occurrence, and it would never occur to any of these people that maybe something was badly enough wrong they should stay inside out of the way, so out they all come, and yard lights are going on all over the place...(STEPHEN, who is obviously back in the moment Jim's describing, is beginning to slide off JIM's lap in silent hilarity. JIM pauses to get him resettled, then continues.) I'm not totally sure how we got down. I know I personally fell at least part of the way, because the next day I felt like I'd been body-slammed. I distinctly remember having the idea of shinnying down a drainpipe, and I might well have tried, but seeing as how I was naked my nuts might have informed me they didn't approve of that idea, especially not in December--metal drainpipe, you know-- 

STEPHEN: Oooooh, that _smarts_...(he cracks up again) 

JIM: --and the next thing I remember I was on my back, three feet deep in a packed snowbank, and Stevie was on top of me. So we get up and hightail it for the hedges that bordered the Patterson's back yard, hoping to make it before the cops managed to surround the place, to cut off the retreat of the supposed prowlers. But it's dark, and we're blasted, and we made it to the hedges, but after that we somehow got turned around--I know we _thought_ we were heading for our house...well, we wound up streaking right through the floodlights they were shining all around the house. When we suddenly emerged into the light it kind of shocked us, and we stopped a second, and everybody's staring at us all silent and dropjawed...and Stevie breaks into "Jose Cuervo" at the top of his lungs. 

DANA: (giggling uncontrollably) So what did you do? 

JIM: (shrugging philosophically) What _could_ I do? I joined in. Can't really blame him. If there _is_ any chance of getting out of a spot like that, it's gonna be through sheer balls. So we took off running again, hollering that damn tune, down the street lined with curious onlookers, and off into the night. And as we're pounding down the street--the middle of the _street_ , mind you, not the sidewalk--and waving at the neighbors, some of whom were applauding, I hear Liz Patterson say "Sorry, officer, but never mind. It's just the Ellison boys again." 

(STEPHEN lets out a peal of mirth and slides out of JIM's lap to thud onto the rug and roll under the coffee table.) 

DANA: I take it you two had a reputation. 

JIM: Well, only with the Pattersons. We used to hang out with their two daughters, though none of us ever dated; they were about our ages. Like all fathers of teenaged girls, Richard Patterson looked with fear and loathing on teenaged boys. Liz thought we were nice kids, if a little eccentric, but Richard figured that from having been a teenage boy himself, he knew where our heads were really at. So anyway, we made it home somehow...c'mon, Stephen, you're embarrassing me, here. 

(Snorting and sniffling, STEPHEN begins trying to crawl out from under the coffee table.) 

DANA: And your father was informed of this little escapade. 

JIM: Yeah, by the cops and by Richard Patterson both, before we made it home. Sarah Patterson told me later that the cops were in hysterics over the whole thing; they didn't even try to chase us down. They just let us run a mile and a half back home, naked and yelling. So one of them calls Dad and gives him the rundown, the whole "We're not prosecuting this case of underage drinking/public indecency/disturbing the peace/trespassing THIS time..." If it'd been me, I'd have hauled us in just to throw a scare into us--and make sure we didn't kill ourselves or freeze to death--but maybe he figured he was doing us a favor. Richard Patterson told Dad to keep his hooligan kids under control and away from his girls or he'd do it for him, and of course Dad was...Jesus. He was _pissed_. I think that's the most pissed I'd ever seen him to that point, and we'd seen him pissed to the point of using that damn belt on us. 

STEPHEN: (crawling onto the couch next to Jim, panting and massaging his face with one hand) Buckle end. Somehow managed never to leave marks, though. 

DANA (losing her smirk, making a note and looking back up): And did he use the belt on that occasion? 

JIM: No. After we got bigger he quit the spankings or whatever entirely. I don't know why. Maybe because we both got bigger than _he_ is. 

DANA: What action _did_ he take? 

JIM: Well, he couldn't really punish one of us by rewarding the other this time, though that was his first inclination--I was older and if I'd said I'd been the instigator, got my little brother snockered and Stevie couldn't have been expected to-- 

STEPHEN: But I wouldn't let him. 

JIM: (Gazing fondly at STEPHEN, with a soft smile) No, my little idiot. You wouldn't let me. (Looking back at DANA) We really nearly blew the game that time. Both of us drunk as hell, hanging onto each other so tight you couldn't have stuck a straw between us, and both of us loudly declaring that the whole thing, breaking into the liquor cabinet and everything that came after, had been his own idea. Sometimes I still wonder what the hell Dad was thinking about during that whole scene. I mean, Christ. What a picture. 

DANA: Did he make any mention of the fact that you could have had frostbite, almost certainly hypothermia--especially since you were intoxicated, your core temperatures were doubtlessly low--and you'd both probably fallen off a three-story building, snowbank or not? And you ran across a mile and a half of frozen blacktop in bare feet. You must have looked terrible. 

STEPHEN: (snorts) 

JIM: No. He didn't mention it. In fact, dear old Dad was all set to make us take our own chosen medicine, lie in the bed we made, however he put it, by making us spend the night in the garage. 

STEPHEN: Unheated. Garage. Naked. Since we obviously enjoyed freezing temperatures enough to get naked in them. Or however he put it exactly. 

DANA: Since both of you are alive today, I take it this turned out to be merely a threat to frighten you, or else someone intervened. 

STEPHEN: Maybe both, kind of. 

DANA: Sally? 

JIM: She wasn't there at the time; she usually went home in the evenings, though not always. No, it was Liz Patterson. She called a little while after Richard did and talked Dad down. Like I said, she liked us okay. She could see...well, there were some people, adults mostly, some kids our age, who knew Stephen and I...who could see at least some part of what we really meant to each other, and weren't very big fans of Dad. Also, I think she trusted her daughters' judgement in a way their father didn't. Sarah and Ann kind of vouched for our characters, if you see what I mean. In between screams of laughter, according to Sarah. 

DANA: Do either of you believe now that he would have done as he threatened and locked you in the garage, if not for Liz's actions? 

(JIM and STEPHEN exchange another look) 

STEPHEN: I really don't know. I'd like to think he wouldn't have, that he was just blowing off steam because he was so...shocked, and angry, and didn't know what else to do. 

JIM: He wouldn't have, Stephen, Dana's right. As cold as it was, and in the state we were already in, that might have killed us. 

STEPHEN: Yeah. I guess you're right. He might've _wished_ we were dead--or at least just not there, you know--more than once, but while he's a lot of things, but he's not a murderer. 

DANA: So your punishment was mitigated to...? 

(JIM and STEPHEN lock eyes, begin to smile, and finally crack up. A pause as the Ellisons die of mirth. DANA waits for a few moments, one eyebrow on the rise.) 

JIM: To _nothing_. He was just...spluttering toward the end of that little session with us. It didn't help him that we were still naked. 

DANA: It's true that casual nudity, or, often, nudity in company of other family members for _any_ reason at all, is...unacceptable in households like the one you grew up in. 

JIM: "Unacceptable" is a very pale word in this case. I think that may be why Stevie and I were all over each other so much even before the sex business; we were starving for...for touch, for attention. I mean, it wasn't _just_ skin Dad couldn't handle, it was any kind of... 

STEPHEN: ...intimacy. The regular family kind, we mean, not the thing Jim and I had starting about a year later. 

JIM: Yeah. That kind of attention, like Stevie said a few sessions ago. Dad was as massively uptight about that as he was about anything else. I thank God that Stephen and I weren't girls; he probably wouldn't even have been able to look at us with our clothes _on_. Anyway, he just couldn't deal with the whole situation. His brain kind of locked up--I mean, these were our _neighbors_ who had witnessed this, some of whom worked with Dad, all of whom knew him, and the family. A lot of them went to our _church_. Can you just imagine someone like our Dad faced with a situation like that? Literally _unthinkable_. It could NOT have happened, therefore it had not happened, or at least, therefore, he wasn't going to deal with it. He finally pretty much threw up his hands and told us to get out of his sight and not leave our rooms, lest we be shot without trial or whatever. 

STEPHEN: We managed to get cleaned up, numb from tequila and cold as we were. We didn't _feel_ cold, but we knew we had to _be_ cold--we were all over red patches--so Jim said we'd better warm up in the shower, like we did sometimes after hockey games. And then we scurried off to Jim's room and got into flannels. I didn't hesitate to go with Jim because we knew Dad wasn't going to be coming anywhere _near_ us for the rest of the night, and possibly longer. 

DANA: Were you afraid? Commiserating together? 

(JIM and STEPHEN exchange another smile) 

JIM: Nah. We were still drunk, for one thing. 

DANA: And you didn't get into any more...adventures that evening? 

STEPHEN (laughing) Nah. We'd more than had it. God, you're right--you should have _seen_ our _feet_. Ouch. What a mess. We went through about half a bottle of Bactine. No, we just...crawled in bed... 

JIM: ...and...kissed... 

STEPHEN: Yeah. You know. Cuddled. We hadn't had our shower epiphany yet, so we didn't _really_ fool around. Besides, we were beat to shit. 

JIM: But Jesus, did we laugh. We'd just _look_ at each other and break up. We looked like all hell. Yeah, we figured Dad would have come up with something appropriately gruesome by morning and we'd be twisting in the wind--not even taking into account the hangover, and the fact that we _had_ fucked ourselves over some physically, and we knew we'd be feeling it later--but right then we just couldn't care. 

STEPHEN: That was one hell of a night. (He takes JIM's hand and squeezes, smiling at him.) Talk about your formative experiences. 

DANA: Do you think it was only because you were drunk, Stephen, that you wouldn't let Jim take all the blame for what happened? Or was there some other reason? 

JIM: Maybe it was because he was drunk, but there were other times he wouldn't let me. (STEPHEN kicks JIM in the ankle for answering for him; JIM ignores it.) He's right, it _was_ me more often, because I was older, and Dad liked to make me responsible for everything, including Stephen. Though Stephen definitely saved my ass from certain death a lot more than once, too. 

STEPHEN: (shaking his head) I just...God. Right at that moment, as far as I was concerned, the whole game could go to hell; I wanted to scream "Stevie Loves Jimmy"--or something--from the rooftops, you know? I guess it _was_ mostly because I was drunk. Well, I didn't _feel_ that way about it because I was drunk, but I threw caution to the wind and _acted_ on it, hung onto Jimmy and let him hang onto me, wouldn't let him take the blame, right in front of Dad--because I was drunk. Booze is like that, of course. Inhibitions drop like lead. (He glances at JIM, smiling a little.) Speaking of which, I'm really surprised I didn't make a move on you that night...because I think that was one of my first experiences with feeling turned on in a grown-up way. While we were in bed that night. Something about all the excitement, how cranked up I was in just about every way--and the booze and all... 

(JIM just gazes back at him a moment, then looks away with a half-smile and a slight flush) 

STEPHEN: (as it dawns) Oh my God--no, you shit me. You totally shit me, Ellison! (He lets go of JIM's hand and bounces around to face him on the couch, sitting on his heels, radiating excitement.) You were hot for me that night! You wanted me too, didn't you! Oh, my God--why didn't you ever tell me? You shit! (Grinning hugely, he slugs JIM in the shoulder.) 

JIM: (still embarrassed, but not upset) Yeah, I guess, a little. I felt something...something new, kind of. But Christ, Stevie, you were thirteen. I wasn't gonna lay a hand on you, for God's sake. Not that way, at least. 

STEPHEN: And you weren't even sixteen yet. Big fat hairy difference. I'd already done the, uh, been through the, you know, relevant puberty-related shit, if you know what I mean. Most of it, anyway. Oh, well. (He slumps back down, turning so that he's leaning against JIM, using him for a backrest.) That night was enough just the way it was. (He laughs softly) Still, it's no wonder I had to be the one to make the first move. God, you're anal. 

JIM: (smirking) And you were the kissing bandit. Fourteen-year-old horndog-- 

STEPHEN: I turned fifteen a couple months after the shower. And the kissing didn't have anything to do with--well, okay, until _then_ it didn't have anything to do with-- 

JIM: --and besides, between the cold and the bruises and the booze...I don't think I could have gotten it up anyway. (The last part of the sentence is nearly lost as he cracks up. STEPHEN loses it along with JIM as he slides to one side and falls backward into JIM's lap.) 

STEPHEN: (through laughter) Good point. Likely me, neither. 

DANA: (smiling slightly as she makes notes) So. Before I ask some more specific questions, do either of you have any thoughts as to how this experience ended up affecting each of you? In terms of your continued adherence to the rules of the game, or any other way? 

JIM: Ummm... 

STEPHEN: (still lying on his back in JIM'S lap, so that he has to talk to the ceiling instead of directly to DANA, gesturing as he speaks) We were _celebrities_. We were _the_ cool guys to know, in our respective grades, for about a whole semester...um...Sarah and Ann got hold of our clothes--out of the trees around their place, remember? And Jim's underwear got fifteen minutes of fame in his school's trophy case. With blue ribbons saying "First Place, Chilly Willy Bare-Assed Cross-Country" and shot glasses with worms hanging out of them and stuff like that. 

JIM: I got a standing ovation when I walked into homeroom. Apparently the general consensus was that neither Stephen nor I had anything we *shouldn't* be proud to show off--you remember he was kind of an early bloomer. And it _was_ about fifteen minutes total for the shorts--the assistant principal practically ripped the locks off getting into the case and getting it all out of there. Ann, though, she always was a softie--she's the one who was closer to Stephen's age, Dana. She gave him his stuff back. 

STEPHEN: Sarah gave Jim his boots back, but the rest of his stuff kept turning up in odd locations for the next month or so. The stadium scoreboard, the flagpole, the team mascot waving his socks for pom-poms...the usual stuff. Though nothing could really beat the shorts. You think of anything else, Jim? 

JIM: (thinking) Well...Dad left us the hell alone for quite a while, which was a relief. You know what? I used to think it was because he was so angry. Looking back...now I think he was freaked because he saw us naked. 

STEPHEN: (snickers) 

DANA: Did he do anything to lead you to that conclusion? Say anything? 

JIM: More what he didn't do. Punish us, or ever mention the incident again. I think if we'd showed up back home in the same circumstances with our clothes on, we'd have been no end of screwed. But the whole concept of our streaking the neighborhood, and then standing there in front of him buck starkers, it just...really messed with his head. Freaked him out big time. 

STEPHEN: Can you blame him? I sure as hell don't wanna see _him_ naked. 

JIM: Good point. 

STEPHEN: By the way, where did Sarah get those worms? 

JIM: Bio lab, she said. 

* * *

(We are at DANA'S POV, a perspective shot from just next to her. JIM is sitting on the couch with his jaw hanging open. STEPHEN is in his usual chair facing DANA, also with his jaw hanging open. BLAIR is sitting in another chair to DANA'S right, facing JIM. His jaw is not hanging open; instead his lips are pressed together in a grim line.) 

BLAIR: (muttered) As my grandfather would say, Oy fucking vey. 

JIM and STEPHEN (in unison): Blair, you didn't. 

BLAIR: That's right, I didn't. 

JIM: Then how-- 

BLAIR: Maybe because Dana has a masters in psychology and a Ph.D. in human behavior, and she's known Stephen for fifteen years? You think? 

(JIM gets up, rubbing his hands over his face in tired half-angry resignation, as STEPHEN leans back in his chair, closing his eyes with a sigh.) 

DANA: I didn't intend to upset either of you, but this is too important a development to ignore. We'll have to address it at some point, and it might as well be now. 

JIM: (glaring over his shoulder where he's propped against the window with his arms folded) This better not go _anywhere_. 

BLAIR: Jim! Don't be insulting. 

DANA: It's normal to be worried under circumstances like these, Blair. Jim, no more than anything else we've discussed will anything you say leave this room. 

JIM: I don't want it in your notes, either. 

STEPHEN: Jim... 

JIM: I'm serious. 

(BLAIR rolls his eyes and covers them with one hand in embarrassment.) 

DANA: Jim... 

JIM: It stays out of your notes or I walk. This point is non-negotiable, read me? I'm not gonna risk Stephen's reputation for any reason. This could destroy his life. 

DANA: That _will_ make it more difficult to-- 

JIM: I told you-- 

STEPHEN: Jim. Back off on this one, okay? 

DANA: How about this. I'll make a separate file for sessions on this topic, referring to you only by an alias. I'm the only one who will know the aliases I choose, and so if I get run over by a bus on my way home from work today, there's no chance of trouble if my case notes fall into the wrong hands. Good enough? 

JIM: (ponders a moment) Well...no, but-- 

STEPHEN: (gets up and moves to JIM, laying his hands on his shoulders) Come on, Jimmy. I'll be okay. She won't let anything happen. I've known her for _fifteen years_ , and the thing we had back when is _already_ in her notes, anyway. 

JIM: And I don't like that much either, but that's at least a little different. Something that was over while you were still only fifteen...and I was the older one; we could put it all on me if it-- 

STEPHEN: Jimmy. (He gazes intently into JIM's eyes.) What I'm willing to risk personally is my own call, not yours; I'm all grown up now. If I'm the only one you're worried about... 

BLAIR: Come on, Jim. She's not going to drop it. Remember you're doing this for Stephen. 

STEPHEN: And for Blair. 

JIM: (waving a hand in exasperation) All right, all right--but that includes any slipups we make at other sessions, mentioning this; they stay out of the file with our names on it. Right? 

DANA: I think that's workable. So, Stephen--at what point after you and Jim began speaking again did you realize you had sexual feelings for him? 

(STEPHEN, sitting back down, is quiet a moment.) 

STEPHEN: I suppose...well, to be honest, I at least noticed how good he looked the first time I saw him again, at the track. Well, less hair. 

JIM: (smirks but says nothing) 

STEPHEN: (noticing this) Okay, I have a little more forehead than I did when I was sixteen, too, I'll admit. Anyway, seeing him gave me such a feeling rush--startled, scared, excited...and a big lump of longing somewhere in there. When he blew me off and walked away I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach _twice_ \--first seeing him, then seeing him...turn away from me like that, after some comment about how funny it was two guys could live in the same city so many years and never run into each other... _that_ point got across clear as a bell--he was suggesting we make it another fifteen years before running into each other again. 

JIM: (softly, pained, as he reaches over to touch STEPHEN'S shoulder, then his cheek) No, Stevie, I only didn't know what to...you think I wasn't feeling it like a punch in the breadbasket, too? I didn't know how to... 

BLAIR: (with a rueful smirk) And I was no help. Just started quizzing Jim, since up until then he'd never mentioned having a brother. Curiosity got the better of my empathy, I guess. Of course, I didn't realize the state of affairs between them at the time, if you'll pardon the expression. 

STEPHEN: Jim, we're past that now. (He takes JIM'S hand and holds it absently as he speaks) Anyway, I don't think...I don't think there was anything sexual in it at that point, though. It was like seeing an old lover from half a lifetime ago...but one you never really got completely over. It's...the thrill's all in the chest, not lower down. (He chuckles ruefully) Hell. I guess it _was_ seeing an old lover I never got over. God, I'd been so in love with him. But I couldn't know right then that I still...that I _could_ love _him_ , this thirty-eight year old man, as opposed to only loving the Jimmy I remembered. 

(He is quiet again a moment) 

BLAIR: Maybe the balcony? You looked a little flushed when you came in. 

DANA: The balcony? 

STEPHEN: The first time we kissed, since we started talking again. It was the evening after our first session with you. I'd stayed over for dinner, and Jim was pretty upset--he's really not good with this kind of thing, and he was feeling a lot of pressure to perform like a pro in an arena where he's never had a lot of interest and even less luck; and he also felt like Blair and I were almost...kind of taunting him, with how much better _we_ are at it. I was crouched next to his chair, rubbing his shoulders with one hand, and I kissed his cheek sort of in apology, and he pulled me in and planted a pretty serious one on me. On the mouth, I mean, not the cheek. 

DANA: And you don't normally kiss, not the way you used to as boys, since you began speaking again. 

STEPHEN: Not until then, no. Couple of hugs. He'd put his arm around me, but he'll put his arm around anything that holds still long enough. 

JIM: I will not. 

DANA: Then--not to stoop to the prurient, but was it a kiss you might normally expect from a brother? 

STEPHEN: (flushing slightly, smiling a little) Uh, it was...I wouldn't call it X-rated, at least. No tongue or anything. But our mouths were open, and it was...softer, and went on a lot longer, than you'd normally expect your brother to kiss you. We'd kissed like that as kids, before we were fooling around, but...that was the first time we'd done it since...it felt... 

DANA: Jim? Can you tell us what made you do that? 

JIM: (shakes head) I don't know. I don't know why I kissed him. 

BLAIR: Because you wanted to, obviously, so why did you want to? Just close your eyes and let yourself go back to the moment...it's safe to remember, Jim...how do you feel? 

JIM: (sighing and closing his eyes) I feel...sorry. Regretful. 

DANA: What did you feel sorry for? 

JIM: I'm not sure. (He is quiet another moment) Maybe for losing control. Letting the situation get to me, and blaming Stephen and Blair for my shitty mood. For being such an irascible bastard when I know how much they both... 

DANA: You were seeking comfort from Stephen? 

JIM: I guess. Partly. Partly...I think I was kind of desperate for him to _know_ how sorry I was, and words...words just don't seem to cut it with me sometimes. 

DANA: We've talked before about how important touch was as a form of communication, and a method of comfort, between you and Stephen when you were growing up, as distinct from the sexual feelings you had. I've observed you interacting with Blair, and touch seems to be a very important factor between the two of you as well, beyond the usual of what would be explained by your relationship. 

JIM: I'm not like that with everybody, you know. 

DANA: No, but with those you trust most, those closest to you, perhaps. 

JIM: Yeah...maybe it was reflex. Maybe that was Jimmy kissing Stevie like he used to... 

STEPHEN: ...to say "I love you" and "I'm sorry" and a bunch of other things all at the same time. Yeah, maybe it was. 

DANA: So, Stephen, was that the point where you realized you might desire Jim sexually? 

STEPHEN: (still a bit pink) I think it might've been. Well, no--I think it was the first time I felt a serious stirring. We talked about how touching each other felt right, and I...told him that when he kissed me, I really felt something. But I don't think I knew yet... 

JIM: The camping trip. 

STEPHEN: (Looking up at JIM) Yeah, probably. 

JIM: You were flirting with me in the truck on the way there. I just realized that. (JIM smiles) I thought you were just yanking my chain about the, uh, name thing. You always were a flirt. I think that might be when my motor really started running--even though there was no name to put to it yet. When you gave me that look. 

STEPHEN: (smiles back, then glances down again) Yeah. Um, I think I know when I realized, now. Blair, the session we left from that day--when you said he'd yelled my name accidentally while you two were getting it on. I kind of got a hot flash. Didn't say anything at the time because I was a little freaked. 

BLAIR: (laughing) That's what was with that big grin-followed-by-coughing-fit that hit you when I said that! I thought you were just embarrassed. Is that why you dragged your coat into your lap? 

(STEPHEN nods, smirking in embarrassment at the floor) 

JIM: I didn't notice. I guess I was too busy trying not to kill my partner. 

BLAIR: And I didn't think you were gonna get a grip before it was too late, either. Hey, at least I thought it was funny. A lot of people would've been royally pissed, ya know. 

JIM: (embarrassed) Yeah, yeah... 

DANA: And Jim? How about you? When did you realize your feelings of attraction to Stephen weren't only related to nostalgia about your former relationship? 

JIM: (sighs resignedly) Not sure. I guess I first started to get an inkling after the dream Blair and I told you about, the one with me and Stephen in the hammock. The memory-dream. At the time I thought it was like you said, though--just affection and nostalgia, making me feel things; that it wasn't really...real. I didn't take it seriously, or I probably wouldn't have asked Stephen on the trip, at least not right away. 

DANA: So you weren't feeling uncomfortable with your reaction to the dream. 

JIM: I don't really know how to say this...if it had been anybody else--I mean, I'm with Blair. For good. That's the way it is. But Stephen...it just doesn't seem to _count_. Maybe if it upset Blair, that'd be different. 

DANA: So having a crush on Stephen didn't make you feel as though you were being unfaithful to Blair. 

JIM: (blinks) A crush. Heh. That's kind of cute. Maybe I did think it was just a...crush. For a while, anyway. (He is quiet a moment) I guess not. I mean, about being faithful to Blair. It didn't feel like I wasn't being, I mean. 

DANA: And you, Blair? How do you regard Jim's being avowedly in love with Stephen, in light of his relationship with you--which you both consider to be marriage? 

BLAIR: Let me think a minute. (He is briefly quiet.) It's like Jim says. When I see them together, it's not...really, it makes me sound kind of arrogant, I suppose--like I'm so sure Jim is _so_ into me that it doesn't matter who else he loves, but...hell, man, that's it exactly. I'm so sure of what Jim and I have...maybe I wouldn't feel like that if it were anyone but Stephen, I don't know. If Jim fell in love with somebody I can't stand, I'd probably be pretty fucking trashed right now. Well, not because of the whole "cheating" idea, but because if he can, you know, fall really, totally in _love_ with someone I loathe, or even just don't really like, I'd have to call _our_ compatibility into question. But I love Stephen. (BLAIR and STEPHEN exchange shy smiles.) 

STEPHEN: I love you, too. 

(JIM smiles.) 

BLAIR: Also, I _am_ an anthropologist with some psych background; I know that polygamy is practiced in 83% of all 850 or so ethnic groups living on this planet. Only 16% practice monogamy, although scientists point out that it's often veiled polygamy, since people almost _never_ stay with one person their entire lives, and frequently have affairs. The concept of "serial polygamy" is pretty widely accepted as what even mostly faithful monogamy really is. Genuine monogamy is a rare thing; having more than one partner or lover is the natural condition for humans. The notion that you can really love only one person, and that you somehow own that person purely because they love you, is a modern western idea. I know, I know-- (he holds up a hand to forestall DANA as she is about to speak)--this _is_ this culture and the time I was raised in, and that's what forms your perception of these things, and many people raised in the right here and right now _would_ feel betrayed at _some_ level if their spouse, or whatever you want to call it, was in love with someone else at the same time. But for whatever reason, my underlying feelings are in agreement with what my head knows, at least in this case--that monogamy isn't the only version of true love, and that Jim will never love me any less than he loves me now, or than he loves anyone else. But then...this is _Stephen_ we're talking about...(He thinks a moment) It's hard to be sure. Maybe there'd be some of that betrayal and hurt feeling if it was someone else, but Stephen, he's...I don't know, it's almost like he's a part of Jim. Not that Jim's not whole without him--more like they're two parts of something bigger. They're not _incomplete_ when they're apart or anything, I don't mean it like that, but when they're together, they just...mesh. 

DANA: Like you and Jim do? 

BLAIR: Kinda...well, no, not really. Jim and I are like a magnet--with a north and a south pole. We're complementary. Yeah, we have a bunch in common and all, but still, we balance each other in a lot of ways. We kinda force each other to expand our own horizons. I loved that about being close to Jim even before we got all, you know, with the gazing raptly into each other's eyes and stuff, man. 

JIM: That's beautiful, Chief. (grins) 

BLAIR: (grins back) Shut up, Jim. Anywho, Jim and Stephen...I don't know. (He thinks a moment.) Like water flowing into water. When two streams converge, then flow into a river, then into the ocean...each stream is complete by itself, and it can flow out of the larger body of water and be separate and complete again. But it _can_ be part of something bigger. The same, but not identical. Complete, but still part of each other. But then, that's the way I felt about them even before they started making love again. 

STEPHEN: (Not grinning, just smiling) You write poetry, Blair? 

(BLAIR just smiles a little at him and looks away again.) 

DANA: Jim--when you realized the crush might not be just a spurious, whimsical sort of attraction born of nostalgia, but serious feelings you'd consider acting on--was that during your camping trip? 

JIM: Um...yeah. 

DANA: What made you sure enough of that to act on those feelings? 

JIM: Um...a bear. 

DANA: (brows going up) A bear? Made you realize you were in love with Stephen? 

JIM: Er... 

STEPHEN: Maybe I can help. (BLAIR smirks at him because STEPHEN is actually squirming around nearly as much as JIM is.) I attacked Jim--he made a bad joke and I jumped on him, and we were wrestling and we...um... 

DANA: You were wrestling, and...? 

STEPHEN: And I won, and I was sitting on him holding him pinned, and...we just kind of...it's hard to describe. Faded into each other. The next thing I knew I was all over him and we were both sporting Lincoln Logs. 

DANA: You kissed him. 

STEPHEN: I _ate_ him. Well, you know what I mean. Same with him, he gave it right back. And then I happen to open my eyes and there's this bear sitting across the clearing. 

DANA: What did you do? 

STEPHEN: He wasn't any danger, near as I could see, so I just told Jim there was a bear over yonder watching the camp, and made sure he had his gun with him. Jim, I mean, not the-- 

BLAIR: No WAY, man! (To DANA) He was going for a "right to arm bears" joke. And people say _I_ have a twisted sense of humor. 

DANA: (smiles) I see. Please go on, Stephen. 

STEPHEN: (with an annoyed look at BLAIR, as JIM chuckles) It was kind of hard to pull Jim out of whatever had taken us over for a few minutes; I think maybe he was wondering why I stopped. He was just kind of blinking at me until the word "bear" got through. 

JIM: I was a little...out of it. 

DANA: With arousal? 

JIM: Er, yeah. When I came to, I suddenly realized--yeah, I was in love with him, and yeah, I wanted him. Wanted Stephen--this hulking thirty-five year old who just threw me on the ground, not _only_ that scrawny kid I remember so well. It took me a while to get easy with that, I suppose-- 

STEPHEN: To put it mildly. 

JIM: Shut up, Stephen. But anyway, that's when I realized something genuine was happening. With me, at least. 

STEPHEN: (kicks Jim in the ankle) And I was no scrawnier than you, beanpole boy. 

DANA: What happened then? 

STEPHEN: Well...we were both kind of in a daze...I rolled on a scorched marshmallow while we were wrestling and it got stuck to my shirt, and Jim was laughing this weird laugh...anyway we just kind of got quiet and went to bed. I don't know about Jim, but I was watching him whenever he wasn't looking at me, trying to decide... 

DANA: ...if he would welcome another advance, or if he'd been disturbed by what just happened between you? 

STEPHEN: Pretty much, yeah. But he just plopped down on his bedroll like nothing happened. 

JIM: Not _quite_ like nothing happened. 

STEPHEN: Yeah, I noticed that boner didn't want to die. 

JIM: It was yelling its presence until after you went to sleep. And I saw you peeking at me, by the way. (He smiles) 

STEPHEN (softly, wondering): If you could tell I was wanting you, and you...well, why didn't you say something? 

JIM: Um...(loses the smile)...actually, I was...a little confused. Didn't feel like I could really...trust my senses, if you see what I mean. (BLAIR and STEPHEN nod quickly) I thought wishful thinking might be influencing my perceptions. Maybe you were watching me because you were...feeling awkward or didn't like what had happened or something, and you were worried I _would_ make a move on you, so to be on the safe side, I didn't. 

BLAIR: Not right then, at least. (He smirks) 

DANA: You did later? 

JIM: It was kind of mutual. He woke up and we talked a little, and he was holding my hand, and he kissed it, and I got this thrill--the way he did it, I knew he...still...that he felt at least partly like I did. I still didn't have the balls to do anything about it right then. 

STEPHEN: But then, the next morning, we were watching the sunrise... 

JIM: It was so much like that morning in the hammock... 

STEPHEN: And we... 

JIM: He... 

BLAIR: They made out on the edge of a cliff for about half an hour before Jim realized that if they kept it up much longer, they were going to lose their balance and fall off. 

DANA: (smirking) Do either of you want to add anything to that? Jim, Stephen? 

JIM: Um, not right now, thanks. 

STEPHEN: Me neither. 

BLAIR: To make what's likely going to be a very halting and stammering story short, they did do some messing around over the rest of the trip, like when Stephen got beat up by the tree-- 

DANA: (brow rising, beginnings of a grin) He got beat up by a _tree_? 

STEPHEN: (hiding his eyes behind his hand) Don't ask. 

BLAIR: --though they didn't go all out first thing, since like Jim says, he was still trying to get his head around the idea that this was happening, and Stephen said to me once that he hadn't wanted to push. So then Stephen suddenly...fell ill when they were finally about to bring it all in to home plate, so they never made it past about second base. Though they were making the old college try at stealing third before they got tagged, God knows. And Stephen was really sick for about a week after that... 

DANA: The killer flu he mentioned? It hit during the trip? 

STEPHEN: Yeah. I'd thought I was just having allergies or something, so I went ahead even though I was feeling...uh...draggy. You know. 

DANA: And Blair--when Jim told you what was occurring between himself and Stephen--I did note your comments earlier, but what was the _first_ thing you felt? 

BLAIR: Besides horny? (JIM and STEPHEN stifle snorts of laughter.) 

DANA: (with an uncontrollable smirk) Yes, besides horny. 

BLAIR: Well, right then, there really wasn't any leisure to ponder What This Means To Our Relationship, because Stephen nearly fucking _died_ , man. We were both pretty busy taking care of him. I mean, his life had to come before all that--(coughs uncomfortably as DANA looks the obvious question at him) Um, he wouldn't go to the hospital because he didn't think he was that bad off, and...he didn't want certain business rivals to find out about it. He had something really touchy and crucial up in the air right then. Besides, it got worse than we could possibly have expected faster than we could ever have expected it. Anyway, I found out, once Stephen was reasonably stable, that Jim _had_ been worrying about the ways I might be feeling about it, but I managed to reassure him that I knew he loved me, and that there'd be time to talk about it all later. 

DANA: And Stephen, had you mostly recovered when you and Brian admitted your attraction to each other? 

STEPHEN: Well, when we finally did anything about it, I'd recovered at least a little. Jim and Blair were wrecked, so they were sleeping in, uh, they were off sleeping, and Brian stayed with me to keep an eye on me. We'd actually been sniffing around each other for quite a while, but Jim was the only other guy I'd been with to that point, and I was really chickenshit about trying to start anything with Brian. I didn't know what it was like with guys. Do I ask him on a date? Was he going to expect me to go to bed with him right away? I know the various gay scenes can be really different from the straight ones, and I didn't want him thinking I was a waste of his time, too out of it to bother with. Turned out I shouldn't have worried; he's not much of a scene cruiser. 

DANA: Did he know about your feelings for Jim when you and he...declared for each other? 

STEPHEN: Um, no. Well, yes. I mean, I told him right then. Before we actually did anything beyond flirting, though I admit it turned out we'd both been pretty infatuated for a while. I mean, he _was_ in bed with me, but not like _that_ , you know--I was still extremely screwed up, but...I just...I thought he needed to know. I don't...I don't cheat. I don't go behind people's backs; I never have. 

DANA: So he does know now. How did he react? 

STEPHEN: Uh... 

(BLAIR snickers) 

STEPHEN: He, uh...he's okay with it. 

(DANA's brows go up) 

DANA: Really. 

JIM: Oh, yeah. He's as okay as Blair is. 

(DANA's brows threaten to disappear into her hairline) 

DANA: Blair and Brian are both fine with it. 

BLAIR: So fine we got horny past the point of bearing watching them kiss each other good morning the next day and...um...(STEPHEN is making throat-slashing ixnay-on-the-Rianhumpingbay motions, and JIM is staring in wide-eyed chagrin.) 

DANA: ...and...? 

BLAIR: Um...ah, screw it. We ran off and humped like weasels. 

(STEPHEN covers his face with his hands. JIM rolls his eyes. BLAIR grins a kind of desperate grin. DANA gazes at him a moment, then slowly sets her pen down and rubs at her temples, closing her eyes.) 

DANA: Okay, maybe we'd better pause and establish exactly who is screwing who around here. 

STEPHEN: Smooth, Blair. 

BLAIR: She'd have found out sooner or later, for God's sake. Jim and Stephen are screwing. Jim and _I_ are screwing. Stephen and Brian are screwing. Brian and I are screwing. Jim and Brian are not screwing and Stephen and I are not screwing. The end. Though Stephen and I do kiss a little. 

STEPHEN: (hastily) He means friendly ones. No tongue or anything. 

DANA: Okay...(picking pen back up and making notes) ...so. We are definitely talking here about a group relationship? 

BLAIR: Uh... 

STEPHEN: Well... 

JIM: I, uh...guess not. Not if that means everybody's doing everybody. 

DANA: In some group relationships, that's the way it works, but not all of them. After all, Jim had a previous friendly work relationship with Brian, which has no doubt intensified; and Blair and Stephen consider themselves to be brothers-in-law. You all _do_ have a personal relationship of some reasonably intimate type with each one of the others; and there are many such relationships, including most kinds of polygamous marriage, where all parties don't necessarily sleep with all other parties. 

JIM: (aghast) "Many"? Are you saying that this kind of thing is _normal_? 

DANA: I probably wouldn't go that far, considering the time and place where you are, the milieu in which all of you were raised. But you did hear the statistics Blair quoted a few minutes ago; and in any event, even having been raised with a supposedly monogamous ethic, there's still no hard-and-fast definition of "normal"; if you were in San Francisco in '68, you could have been raised the same way, and nobody would give your relationship a second look anyway. And as Blair says, monogamy is a recent invention in terms of general human history. There are different ways to define "normal", and I'm not giving you any kind of doubletalk about that, either. Hell, they pounded the different systems of defining "normal" into our heads as far back as high school psychology. 

BLAIR: It's the same thing, almost, as the different definitions of "average" in mathematical terms. 

DANA: True, as far as that goes, at least. 

JIM: (glowering) Which means what, exactly? 

DANA: It means that the question you really need to be asking here is not "Am I normal" or "Are we normal", but rather "Are we happy." In other words, is the relationship, or relationships, good for all of you--supportive, empowering, loving, trusting, and respectful from all concerned _toward_ all concerned--the exact same question we'd be asking about a monogamous relationship. With the advent of certain sociological theories, questions of "healthy" and "unhealthy" are no longer determined simply by whether or not the relationship in question is heterosexual, monogamous, and non-abusive. I'd need more information, from all of you, to make a determination as to whether your relationship is a healthy one, that being so complex a definition; even as well as I know Stephen, I can't use only him as a barometer. The data would have to come from all of you. But rest assured--you're not a freak, Jim. 

(The other three all react, exchanging glances, trying not to show startlement) 

BLAIR: Jim--I think she means you need to get off the whole "weird" kick and make up your mind to doing some real work. 

JIM: (glowers again) You can't tell me that this isn't a strange setup. Um...certain factors notwithstanding. It's _not_ normal. 

DANA: A better way to look at it at this point, until I've gathered more information, would be that it's unusual for what you're used to. Or, if you like, the word "alternative" is popular to describe such situations right now, among others. Even in western society, group relationships, just like consensual sex between family members of the same generation, are far more common than most people realize. Neither are _necessarily_ indicative of any underlying pathology; though, of course, which relationships _are_ indicative of that and which are not can be extremely difficult to determine, which is the reason for the profession's tendency to extreme caution and skepticism in that area. Because the danger to the individual's mental and emotional health is quite dire if there is any kind of inappropriate power dynamic present--even a very subtle one, and that goes for your run-of-the-mill marriage as well as a more alternative-type relationship--the usual practice is to always treat sibling incest as either dangerous or potentially dangerous to the individuals involved. This practice is coming under some scrutiny, however, as it's being repeatedly pointed out by numerous people in the field that despite the taboo, consensual sibling sex takes place fairly frequently, and--unhealthy power dynamic being absent--there is no supportable argument against it that anyone can isolate, save that of genetics. And these days, even siblings of different genders can have sexual relations without the fear of pregnancy. 

JIM: But how can you just take people's words for this? Couldn't anybody _say_ what was happening was consensual, or that they were comfortable in a relationship, because they...they-- 

DANA: There are many reasons people might do that, but we don't need to take your words for it. At least as far as you and Stephen go, I have observed things that specifically indicate that your sexual relationship as teenagers was not detrimental to either of you emotionally. 

JIM: But...(At a loss for words, he reaches over to touch Stephen's shoulder, and looks across the table at Blair.) 

STEPHEN: He wants to know... 

BLAIR: I think he wants to know, simply put, how you can tell that. Why you think that. He wants to be convinced, but he needs it to be convincing. 

(JIM looks less than thrilled--being interpreted in just that way, like an older sibling translating for a verbally frustrated two-year-old, was not the sort of help he'd had in mind--but rather than complain, he just looks at DANA and waits.) 

DANA: Well, for example, there's Stephen's iteration--and your seconding of--the fact that your attention to him, and your attentions to each other, made him feel worthy and loved--without any element of having had to earn that worthiness and love; it was unconditional. I've been working with Stephen for fifteen years, and I know his responses; even if he were suppressing trauma, I'd be able to tell, but his history in therapy with me gives me every reason to think that, as he asserts, you were the source of the high self-esteem he managed to develop despite your home situation--and again, the same, vice versa, with you. Victims of inappropriate sexual behavior both describe and display, in ways psychological practitioners are trained to detect, a phenomenon exactly opposite--feelings of self-loathing, violation and worthlessness. Also, both of your body and eye language, facial expressions, and physical interaction with each other is classically evident of comfort in each other's presence. Even when the two of you are angry with each other, it's still nothing like the behavior exhibited by victims in the presence of their abusers, even empowered survivors. Usually the presence of abuse is difficult to determine by that alone, as there can be many reasons for very similar-looking patterns of behavior--but you and Stephen are so far away from that altogether that there's extremely little chance of it applying. 

BLAIR: She means that a false positive with that diagnostic method is pretty possible, but a false negative is unlikely. 

JIM: And...you're pretty good at telling things like that? 

DANA: How do you think I figured out that you and Stephen still had romantic feelings for each other? I was betting you were already sexually involved again, too. 

STEPHEN: Well, you were right, as usual. 

BLAIR: Don't worry, Jim. As they say, it's all about intent. 

DANA: That applies more to determining what is an abuse situation and what is not in terms of family members seeing each other naked, touching in certain ways, sharing certain other intimacies--but in a sense, yes. Jim's only wish was to nurture and protect Stephen, not to own him or control him, exert power over him, or build up his own self-image by harming Stephen's in any way. As I said, as far as whether the situation the four of you share _is_ healthy for all of you, I'll be needing to continue to see all of you--including Brian--before I could come to any conclusions. Do you think Brian would be amenable to coming in with you, or perhaps just with Stephen at first? 

JIM: Fuck, no. 

BLAIR: Hell, yes. 

STEPHEN: He will be instructed to make himself amenable, never fear. Unless he wants a pissed-off se-- (cough, cough) lover to contend with. 

BLAIR: Jim, I know he hates the department mandatories as much as you do, but it's because he's touchy about the gay thing, he told me so. He always feels like his ability at the job is being called into question, even at a routine eval. This is different. He'll come. 

JIM: Okay, but I ain't gonna be the one to ask him. That's more you guys's department. 

* * *

(Once again, we are at DANA's POV, camera poised to catch her at the edge of the frame. STEPHEN and RAFE are just coming in to the room. DANA rises and holds out a hand to RAFE.) 

DANA: Detective Rafe, I presume. 

RAFE: (shaking her hand) Stephen's guru, I presume. 

STEPHEN: Brian. 

DANA: I take it he's been quoting me again? 

RAFE: (grins) Incessantly. So. You a dyke? 

STEPHEN: Brian! 

DANA: (shaking her head and smiling slightly) No. 

RAFE: Halfling? 

DANA: No. 

RAFE (grabs STEPHEN's head and lays a mondo smooch on his mouth. STEPHEN is "Mmmph!"-ing and has bug eyes through the whole thing. Rafe pulls away from him with a wet smack and lets go of him, catching his arm to steady him. He looks at DANA.) 

RAFE: So--why don't you share how that made you feel, Doctor? 

DANA: (slowly smiles in a sultry fashion) Okay, but first, would you, ah...mind maybe doing it again? (She is visibly purring.) 

RAFE: (stares, aghast, while STEPHEN just rolls his eyes--he knows what she's doing--but RAFE doesn't see that because he's too busy being alarmed at the idea of what kind of unprofessional weirdo STEPHEN has been...) 

DANA: (loses her sultry look and begins to snicker evilly) 

RAFE: (slowly realizing he's being yanked, seems to be reassured by the fact and finally breaks into a grin) Damn. Well, lady, I guess you _are_ okay. (He shakes her hand again) Call me Brian. 

DANA: Call me Dana. (To STEPHEN) Cocky bastard, isn't he? (She sits in her usual chair as RAFE snorts a laugh.) 

STEPHEN: (snickering as he sits down, tugging RAFE with him) Sometimes. Not usually. He's about as mild-mannered a sweetheart as you have any hope of finding behind a detective's badge-- _unless_ he's pissed or scared. 

DANA: Oh. So, which is it, Brian? 

RAFE: Neither. Give me a break, Stephen. 

STEPHEN: Scared. He hates being in a room with a non-gay shrink who knows he's gay. 

RAFE: Stephen! 

STEPHEN: Well you do. 

RAFE: (with an expression that says that, now that it's out there, better to explain than have DANA drawing her own conclusions, but he's still pissed STEPHEN spouted off) I am not scared; I hate it because it always comes _back_ to that with these people. Always. Apparently there is no issue in my life that cannot be directly attributed to, or at least closely associated with, the fact that I'm gay. We can be off at the other end of the cosmos talking about my views on state-sponsored medical care or something, and out of the clear blue sky comes some twisted, farfetched question on some association with sex that just leaves me staring in amazement at the associational yoga they had to go through to create it, and I have no idea what to say. (He pauses. STEPHEN puts a hand on his shoulder.) 

DANA: Got your breath? 

RAFE: (nods, with a rueful twist of his lips) 

DANA: These people weren't Freudians, were they? 

RAFE: Hm. I don't know, but I don't think so. But still, they just wouldn't get off my leg about it. I'm supposed to be talking about the fact that I'm having nightmares about my partner getting hurt since I had to shoot someone to save his ass, and they won't shut up about the fact that I'm gay. What, I can't be afraid for my partner without wanting to screw him? If I were straight and he were a woman, nobody'd dive right on _that_. And on top of that, I hate to break it to these people, but what a guy likes to stick his dick in hasn't got shit to do with the feelings _anybody_ might have about ending another human life. 

DANA: Those shrinks need to get with the program. Homosexuality hasn't been classified as a psychological disorder for about thirty years, and the whole concept it being possible to "turn" a person gay has pretty much been left by the wayside by the latest generation of therapists, except in certain exceptional cases. But try to cut them a little slack; your department shrinks almost never _see_ a homosexual in their office unless they also practice elsewhere, and of those that do, well, _they_ seldom see one professionally who isn't having some kind of emotional discomfort. That _is_ why people go to shrinks, after all. And if you're having emotional discomfort, in this society, it would be unusual if you *didn't* have some feelings about the fact that you were gay. Gays have a much higher suicide rate than straights in this country, just from the stress of living as a gay person. If you're examining emotional issues and you're gay, being gay almost _has_ to come into it somewhere, even if no more importantly than being black or being handicapped. Things that set you apart from the majority are highly relevant to a person's emotional state, even if the person is very accepting of that difference in themselves and has learned to cope well with the ramifications of the difference. 

RAFE: (glowering) Okay, I'll buy all that. But how does whether I felt inadequate about my penis size have any bearing on how likely I am to shoot somebody who's about to pull the trigger on me or my partner or a hostage? Or try this one: Why did I join SWAT? And am I _sure_ that's why I joined SWAT? How did I feel about big, long sharpshooting rifles with powerful sights when I was a kid? Did my father have one? Did he like to let me hold it? Jesus, do you think they'd ask a straight guy shit like that? 

DANA: (with a sideways got-me-there nod) Okay, I'll give you that one. Who was it who asked you all that? 

RAFE: Someone who--God, it was obvious--saw me walk into her office for a _regular eval_ , not even a post-shooting, and was one step from salivating about it. "Ooh, gay cop." The second I saw her expression, I bet she pulled strings to have me assigned to her, and it turned out I was right. She saw a damn Nobel Prize statue sitting in that chair opposite her, I swear, not me. At least that would have explained the direction her eyes were focused some of the time...either that, or she was trying to figure out whether I had a small dick. 

DANA: I hate to say it, but judging by your description of this individual, that's entirely possible. Did you report this, by any chance? To either your own authorities or the AMA? 

RAFE: (sighs) No. I gave her short answers, then went out and found my own shrink--she _is_ a dyke--to do my evals. You must know I can't afford to stir up unnecessary trouble at work. 

DANA: Sounds like you put up with that kind of thing from the department shrinks for quite a while before you found your own department-eval qualified one. 

RAFE: (sadly) I've been putting up with that all my _life_. My folks tried to have me "fixed". 

DANA: I see. That would explain some things. I'm sorry to hear that. 

STEPHEN: Me too. (Sounding a little plaintive) How come you never told me that? 

RAFE: (shrugs) It's over. I'm luckier than some. My folks finally saw the light. 

DANA: Had you come out to them before they sent you to therapy? 

RAFE: (grins) No. It was the classic "Came home early and caught me fooling around with my 'best friend'"--and I'm not talking about my dick--scenario. I was fourteen, before you ask. 

DANA: I can see why you're sensitive to shrinks who know you're gay, and why you might resent their trying to relate seemingly unrelated topics to that fact. 

RAFE: (scowls) That was shrinkspeak. It meant "You're imagining they're doing that." 

STEPHEN: Brian-- 

DANA: No, Stephen, he's right, to a degree. But to be more exact, my guess is that the truth lies somewhere between Brian's department shrinks doing exactly what he just said they do, and his somewhat sensitized perceptions to that kind of thing. What do you think, Brian? 

RAFE: (shrugs) Okay, yeah, I could go with that. With the exception of the idiot. 

DANA: (grins) Yes, with the exception of the award-coveting idiot. You're obviously an extremely perceptive individual--not surprising, considering how successful you are in the profession you're in--but it's still very bad professional form to let a patient see that kind of thing for _any_ reason, especially so easily. 

RAFE: (gaze narrowing as he looks at her) Unless it's as a device. 

DANA: Don't get your back up, Brian. 'Devices' may feel like 'tricks' to you, but they are for the benefit of the patient, remember. 

STEPHEN: I _was_ wondering why you were being so animated over there. Usually you're pretty much the faceless shrink when I bring someone else in with me. 

DANA: Usually I haven't known whoever else you've brought in for years, like I have you, and I need to remain as neutral as possible until I have an adequate picture of the level of detachment required to make the person feel comfortable. But I got the impression Brian might prefer to deal with Dana the shrink, rather than "Psychiatrist # 606-92-8073, the perfect, faceless shrink". 

STEPHEN: (looking startled) I'd have thought that kind of thing would apply a lot more to Jim...I mean, he hates shrinks--well, he hates therapy, not shrinks per se--as much as Brian. Probably worse. But you didn't...um... 

DANA: Whenever he comes in here, Jim is a big hole in the air just waiting to happen; presenting a very neutral, unthreatening front was important with him if I ever wanted to see him here again. I don't think I need to worry about that with Brian. 

STEPHEN: So, where should we start? 

DANA: Maybe with a few basic questions to establish a baseline about where each of you are with your situation, with each other and with Jim and Blair. How would you describe your perception of your relationship with Stephen, Brian? 

(STEPHEN and BRIAN exchange a look; this part is going to be tricky.) 

RAFE: Uh...we're lovers. He's my...my partner. Not like H, I mean--well, you know what I mean. 

DANA: Despite the fact that both of you have sex on a fairly regular basis with someone else? 

RAFE: Well, yeah. I mean...it's not like...see, I don't have a problem with open relationships--I've been in a couple, I imagine you know all about how gay men can be sometimes--like the opposite of gay women. From the ones I know, well, they tend to pair-bond at the drop of a hat; we tend to...do other things at the drop of a hat. 

DANA: (smiles) Some gay men, yes, and most gay men go through a discovery stage of one sort or another at some period in their lives. 

RAFE: Well, it wasn't really my bag--not so much that I felt crappy about not being exclusive or whatever, it just didn't hold my interest for long. I mean, I like sex as well as the next guy, and I'd by far rather have it with someone I know and care about, someone who's at least a friend; that _was_ a good thing about handling my sex life that way. I've tried it with people I hardly know and--admittedly after sufficient experimentation--I've decided I really do find _that_ pretty boring. Maybe I'm libido-deficient or something, I don't know... 

DANA: Just from what I'm hearing, that's doubtful. Not all men are dogs, as my brother likes to say. 

RAFE: (chuckles) I guess not. Anyway, yeah, I'm with Stephen...when Blair and I have sex, it...with us, the flirting and the sex are...I do love Blair. We've been friends for quite a while now. But it's more a way to express our friendship, with us. Just old-fashioned affectionate sex, you know. Not that I'd have sex with just anybody I happened to consider a friend--with some people that element just isn't there. But it seems...it seems right, with Blair and me. 

DANA: You say you have had such experiences before? Someone you slept with that you weren't in a steady relationship with, open or otherwise? 

RAFE: You mean, have I ever had fuck-buddies? Yeah, I guess everybody does at one time or another. But Blair's a lot more than a fuck-buddy. It's hard to explain... 

DANA: And are you uncomfortable with that uncertainty? 

RAFE: Oh, it's not uncertainty. Just because I can't put it into words doesn't mean it doesn't feel right. He's...he's part of us. Like I told Jim, Blair and I'd been eyeing each other for quite a while, flirting, like that--Jim's not really the jealous type; he's too sure of what he has with Blair to worry. Not that he isn't generally suspicious and paranoid, but so am I; that's part of being a cop. But Blair's one area it doesn't seem to apply. Still, I don't know if Blair and I'd ever have done anything about it if it hadn't been for Stephen and Jim getting together that way again. My guess is we wouldn't have. 

DANA: It would have felt like a betrayal, had not Jim also begun sleeping with someone other than Blair? 

RAFE: Not so much that. It just wouldn't have come up. There wouldn't have been anything to take it to the next level for us, if you get me. But with the two of them together, and Stephen and I...it just...felt right. I was a little worried at first, but Blair calmed me down about it. 

DANA: So you feel you've adjusted adequately to the situation, possibly due to having been in similar situations in the past. 

RAFE: There was never anything quite like this before, but I suppose you could say that. Yeah, I'm feeling pretty comfortable about it now, practical issues aside, like the problems that can come up from being in an unusual relationship and having people find out. 

DANA: On that note, how committed do both of you feel to your own relationship? 

RAFE: (exchanging a warm look with STEPHEN, reaching for his hand and holding it in both of his) Pretty damn committed. 

DANA: And your relationship with Blair? 

RAFE: (ponders) I'm committed to Blair, in the sense of considering him a real friend, the kind you never lose even if you move a thousand miles apart or whatever, and in the sense of loving him--I'm committed to what he is to me and what I am to him. But we could stop having sex and it wouldn't change anything between us. I guess I'm kind of committed to Jim, too, though it's a different...you could say I do love all three of them, but it's different with each of them. Jim and I...not that I don't respect all of them, but that's a larger component of what I feel for Jim. I won't say we're not closer since all this started; I definitely know him better now than I ever would have otherwise. And I can't say it's totally impossible I'd ever consider going to bed with him. Right now it's just not on the agenda, though. I almost feel like he's a brother, in a way--not the same way as with my real brother, but definitely like he's family. Neither of us want to push anything. I mean, the situation's complex enough, right? 

DANA: Stephen? What are your feelings on the subject? How do you perceive Jim, Brian and Blair in relation to yourself? 

STEPHEN: Um...which of them do you want to know about first? 

DANA: How about Brian? 

STEPHEN: Oh, with him it's like he said. We're...we're together in a way I'm afraid I can't explain any more than he could. (RAFE gives him a sideways look that almost screams "Nice obfuscation". STEPHEN ignores it and continues.) He's my...my partner. 

DANA: And your feelings about Jim, and Blair? 

STEPHEN: I think I kind of feel about Blair the same way Brian does about Jim--like he's family. I mean, Blair's cute and all... _really_ cute. And he's a joy to touch. He's like a big wad of feelgood, for me, anyway-- 

RAFE: You're not alone in _that_ one, Stephen. 

STEPHEN: (smirking back at RAFE) So I've noticed, Mr. "Cute stuff". Anyway, with Blair and I--it's all so...so warm-fuzzies around him, you know? Instead of making me hot and bothered, he just makes me...smile, feel content. Warm. As for Jim...Jesus. You don't ask much. (He is quiet for a long moment.) It's like Blair was saying the other day. Jim is a part of me. It's some kind of basic, instinctual thing, I think--goes back to my very earliest memories. Maybe I'm gravitating to the familiar or something--he's got the nest-smell or whatever you'd call it, I recognize him at the most basic level. Our...our blood is the same, and we...(he pauses, looking helpless.) 

DANA: Do you relate that to your sexual feelings for him? 

STEPHEN: I really don't know if that has anything to do with my being in love with him. Well, with my falling in love with him when we were teenagers. We were so, so close...he was my first, best friend. It's possible to fall in love with a friend, isn't it? 

DANA: Of course. And it's not impossible to fall in love with your brother, either; just not that usual, even if he is a friend. I was just wondering whether you had been thinking of any correlations concerning that aspect of things. (She makes notes.) 

RAFE: Well, there's always the old saw. The most successful relationships start out as friendships. Maybe this isn't so different. 

STEPHEN: I guess that's the size of it. It doesn't mean I love Brian any less. It's just like he said. I love all three of them, but it's different with each of them. With Jim, it's not like it rotates or something--not like, sometimes he's my friend, sometimes my lover, sometimes my brother. He's just...just _Jim_ to me. Brian doesn't go from being my lover to being my friend to being my g--any of the other things he is to me; he's all that, blended, melded, alloyed. I'm not sure how else to put it. Same with Blair. He's like a brother to me, and a friend, and sometimes I've suspected we might be flirting, but that's all. I have...I have the _Blair_ feeling for Blair, if you follow me. 

DANA: I believe so. 

STEPHEN: I must be sounding pretty clueless over here... 

DANA: Not at all. As Brian says, being unable to articulate feelings doesn't make them any less valid, nor does it necessarily mean you lack understanding of the feelings. As you've noted before, words can be a very inadequate method of expressing emotion. Unfortunately, in the absence of telepathy, they're all most of us have. 

STEPHEN: Like the reason Jim kissed me on the balcony that evening, when he couldn't figure out how to express all the things he wanted to. 

DANA: Yes, basically. But you're really doing a pretty good job of making yourselves understood, both of you. Brian--this group situation. Judging by what I've talked about with Stephen, Jim and Blair, it all happened fairly suddenly, coming to a sort of head about the time Stephen fell ill. 

RAFE: Yeah, I guess so. 

DANA: You seem very calm about the circumstances, very accepting. Is that because this isn't a new sort of situation for you? 

RAFE: Like I said, I've done some open relationships, but they weren't like this. More than casual, more than fuck-buddies, maybe, but this is...compared to this, that was...practice or something. Not to be disrespectful of the people I was with at whatever point; we had something. It was real, and I'd never try to minimize the value of what those guys shared with me, but it was never really intended for permanence. This is. 

DANA: You haven't had much time to analyze your reactions to events, and come to that decision. 

RAFE: I didn't need much. It was like this TA-DAAAA! epiphany. (STEPHEN chuckles at RAFE's description.) I felt like I knew why I was here--rather, I knew the _rest_ of why I was here. The missing puzzle piece, that'd been missing so long I'd stopped noticing it. I was a pretty happy guy. You know, bats in their belfry and all's right with the world--(he pauses, grinning, as STEPHEN laughs again) I just didn't know how good it _could_ get. 

DANA: Do you agree with that assessment from your own perspective, Stephen? 

STEPHEN: Completely. The way he put it is perfect. It hit us all like a runaway freight, Brian and I hardest of all, probably. There was a lot of shock to go around with all of us over all this, I admit, but I think we're all pretty settled about it now. 

RAFE: Yeah, I felt gobsmacked and out of my depth, and even made noises about how...how we'd better get everything worked out before...before things turned ridiculous. But I got over that quick. Being with Stephen is like nothing I could ever have looked for in my life. (STEPHEN smiles at him and kisses his cheek.) I'm not saying it's not _weird_ sometimes--(STEPHEN laughs as RAFE grins at him) because it's definitely that. But I don't think it'll seem that way much longer. Problematical, yeah, and a hassle sometimes. But we'll work it out. All of us. 

DANA: Without going into the kind of detail we'd need Jim and Blair here for, perhaps we should generally discuss a few of those current and potential problems, how aware of them and prepared for them you are, and how you're handling them on a temporary basis. You do seem very committed, but that's not unusual in the early stages of a relationship, when many people minimize possible pitfalls and complications, no matter what sort of relationship it is. And in your case...you must realize that the path you're on is never going to be an easy one, not in this society. 

RAFE: We know. Boy, do we know. 

* * *

(DANA is in her chair, writing on her notepad. STEPHEN is in his usual chair facing her at the other end of the coffee table, wearing jeans and an old fisherman's sweater, and some battered loafers. He is blinking sleepily. RAFE, in a pair of jeans and a tank undershirt, is sitting on the arm of STEPHEN's chair, one foot resting on the floor to balance him, the other knee drawn up, his arm around STEPHEN's shoulders. JIM is sitting on the couch near their chair, eyes closed as his fingers move slowly over his temples; his expression indicates he's either in some serious pain or he's deeply pissed off. BLAIR is next to him, both of them in jeans and T-shirts. Outside the windows, it is full night. ) 

JIM: Sorry about dragging everybody out. You know this really isn't necessary. It was just a fucking anxiety attack. 

BLAIR: Man, it's this or Xanax. Take your pick. 

STEPHEN: It's okay, Jim, but Brian and I aren't sure why we're here. (to DANA) Do you think we can be of some help? 

DANA: Possibly. This is only the second anxiety attack Jim has ever had, and the first one, that occurred during your camping trip, was closely tied to his feelings for, and relationship with, you, Stephen. From what Blair told me over the phone, it sounds like that could be the case again, here. I believe your hypothesis at the time was that the attack happened as a result of Jim's letting go his hold on certain crucial emotional barriers in the process of trying to "get back" to you, correct? 

STEPHEN: (nods) That's what I figured at the time. It seemed to make sense. 

RAFE: What did you tell Dana over the phone, Blair? 

BLAIR: I told her about what seemed to lead up to this attack, and I think it does have a lot to do with Stephen. He was having a nightmare, calling Stephen's name, and when I woke him up the attack had already started. He wouldn't take anything for it, so I just held him and rode it out with him. When I asked him what his nightmare had been about, he said he couldn't remember. 

DANA: Is that true, Jim? You can't remember the dream? 

BLAIR: Come on, man. I know it's frightening, but you need to remember. Relax, take deep breaths...this is important. If it was enough to bring on a full-blown panic attack, it's almost gotta be something pretty damn significant. (BLAIR strokes his arm slowly) Just take it easy...go back to the dream...I know it's unpleasant, but you're here with us now. You won't get lost in the nightmare. It's safe to remember, Jim. 

JIM: (long pause) I...remember...fragments. Bits and snatches. Stephen, as a kid--he was in pain, crying--it was my fault, I don't know why, but it was--he was...(he pauses, taking a deep breath, as BLAIR lays a hand on his shoulder)...calling me, my name, calling for me or yelling at me, I don't know which--I think maybe both--needing me and accusing me at the same time. Then he was older, and the same thing was happening, only...I was the age I am now. And...it wasn't words so much, but I knew he was...was upset--fuck, in tears, screaming--it was like he was demanding to know how I could have let...something...I'm not sure what--let something happen between us, but also...how I could have left him. How I... _why_ had I...loved him like that, made him love me like that, and then left him alone. 

STEPHEN: (Eyes closing briefly in anguish) Oh, Jimmy, Christ...(RAFE strokes his shoulder silently, and STEPHEN leans against him.) 

JIM: Stevie...it was a lie. It's always been a lie, I've been lying all this time...(his throat closes, and he swallows hard, eyes still closed, resting his forehead in his palms, elbows on knees) 

DANA: (softly) Who have you been lying to, Jim, and what about? 

JIM: To Stephen. Blair. Myself, you, everybody. 

DANA: And what was the lie? 

JIM: (another long pause as he holds his breath, keeping control with obvious effort) I don't know. 

BLAIR: Some part of you does, Jim. The part that gave you the nightmare. You just need to listen to what that part is saying instead of hiding from it, running away from it. Whatever it is, we'll still be here. We'll still be with you. 

STEPHEN: I know it isn't a lie that you loved me. 

JIM: NO! (subsides again, with a sigh) No. I never lied about that, Stevie, never. 

STEPHEN: In that case, it can't be anything I couldn't forgive. 

BLAIR: Go back to the dream, Jim, and tell me what you're feeling. 

JIM: Guilt. Like about a shitload of it. 

DANA: Do you feel you hurt Stephen, Jim? 

JIM: Fuck, I've hurt Stephen so many times I still can't think why he even speaks to me. Why he was so willing to trust me during that murder investigation--he went out on a limb trusting me, even after what I'd done to him--and got dropped on his ass for his efforts. He believed in me even after all that, and I tell him he'd better get a fucking lawyer because he's my prime suspect. Jesus. I can't even count the number of times I've let him down. 

STEPHEN: That's strange. It's the number of times you've been there for me, saved me, that I couldn't begin to count. 

JIM: (looks up at STEPHEN, teary-eyed; his voice is gravelly, but flat) I know. I know that's how you see it. That's how you've always seen it. The only thing you couldn't forgive me...when I... 

STEPHEN: The phone call, you mean? The one that sent me on that drinking binge and prompted me to find a good shrink? I have forgiven you, Jim, finally. You explained. You were doing what you thought was best for me, for us both-- 

JIM: No I *wasn't*, I was doing what was _easiest_ because I still--I still--(he breaks off, shaking his head rapidly) I don't know. 

BLAIR: (softly) You were still in love with Stephen, even though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. 

JIM: (freezes for a moment, then turns wide, stunned eyes on BLAIR) You knew, didn't you. 

BLAIR: (softly) I'm sorry, Jim. I knew _something_ was up from the first time I saw your face when you looked at Stephen that night we met up with him. After you told me the two of you had been lovers, it wasn't hard to figure out. But it really wouldn't have done any good to say anything to you. You would just have panicked, refused to believe me. You had to realize it yourself. 

JIM: You _knew_. The whole time. Everything you've been through over this--everything that...that's why you never objected to...to the kiss on the balcony, or...that's why you told me to...oh, God, I can't believe you knew and didn't tell me. 

BLAIR: (helplessly) I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't know what else to do. 

JIM: You just let me...let me hurt you like that-- 

BLAIR: (quiet but firm) You and Stephen do not hurt me, Jim. Your loving Stephen does not mean that you don't love me. I _know_ you love me. 

JIM: (faintly) But...I loved him first, and you knew that... 

BLAIR: (rolling eyes) You _knew_ him first, Jim, I wasn't even fucking _born_ until you two were already playing the game. Stop grabbing for guilt you don't deserve. 

STEPHEN: Yeah, Jim, you seem pretty determined to hang yourself for _something_. Maybe if you explained what the real reason is...? 

JIM: I don't...yeah. I do know...I do know. 

(a pause) 

JIM: I...I needed you, I needed you so much and I didn't...I didn't give you a choice, you...you _had_ to love me, I needed you to need me as much as I did you, so I'd know I'd never lose you...You were younger. I did everything for you, everything to make you love me--and then I just fucking _abandoned_ you because I couldn't face--couldn't face dealing with... 

DANA: With the complications and consequences of being in love with your brother in this society? 

JIM: ...and I just dumped him like a load of garbage, when it got a little rough, when I was having trouble keeping it under wraps--I told him, and I told myself, that it was for his sake, that it was all for him, that everything I was doing--making him love me, making him practically fucking _worship_ me, and then abandoning him when it got tough--I told myself it was for him, it was all for him, everything I... 

STEPHEN: You didn't _make_ me love you, Jim. You _let_ me. There's a very big difference. 

JIM: Then I shouldn't have let you. 

STEPHEN: You couldn't have stopped me. 

JIM: Stephen, I _used_ you. 

STEPHEN: (shaking his head slowly, eyes locked with JIM's) Never. You never, never used me. You never lied to me. You never-- 

JIM: But I--I _did_ lie to you, I promised you I'd come back to you and I didn't-- 

STEPHEN: At the time, you thought it was the best thing, that we not see each other, not get things stirred up-- 

JIM: That's all a lie, Stephen--it was never for you, it was for me! It wasn't the best thing, it was the _easy_ thing! I knew I'd never stop loving you. It was like...oh, that thing Dana was talking about the other day-- people who dump their first gay lover because eventually they realize just what a major part of their life having to deal with it all is going to be, and go into denial about being gay--only in my case, sure, being bi I could face, but not...not what life would be like...I hurt you like that just to make my own life a little simpler, just because I couldn't face my own...it was too complicated. I didn't want to deal with it. So I told myself all that shit about why it was all right to push you away, hurt you so bad, that it was for your own good...but part of me knew the truth. And if we hadn't just run into each other, almost literally, I never would have seen you again. God, being with you now--(stops to steady his voice, closing his eyes briefly) it's so obvious to me, the real reasons, not the self-justification. The symptoms I started having after we got together again--it was only partly guilt, only partly unfinished business. I _wanted_ you, but I couldn't cope with that. Even Blair could see it! God, he must've gone nuts, patiently waiting for me to get a clue and _deal_ with it. I still loved you--the same way I had before. I honestly didn't know it then, but that's why I brought up the 'thing' again after all that time--not _just_ because it needed to be dealt with. It did. But also because I wanted it back. And how could I do that to you? How could I ask you to love me again? After I made you love me, used you to make myself feel safe, then just _dumped_ you-- 

STEPHEN: (gets up and comes over to Jim, sinking to a crouch in front of him, taking his hands) You never used me, Jim. At least, no more than I used you. Having someone to love is always a kind of use, I suppose--the people you love make you feel good, and making them feel good is pleasant, so we do...but I know that's not what you mean. Jim, listen. Do you remember that song I did in mixed ensemble for the Tri-state competition the year before you left? 

JIM: I think so...um, something Irish, wasn't it? 

STEPHEN: (Nods) I never told you this, because I was still young enough to be embarrassed about it, but... I got the solo, according to Mr. Haviland, because of the emotion I put into it--and the emotion was there because it made me think of you. (Sings softly, in a warm baritone) 'I am living to nourish you, cherish you--I am pulsing, the blood in your veins...' That was _you_ to me, Jim. That was us. 

JIM: (swallows and looks away, unable to speak) 

STEPHEN: When you touched me, I felt like that--cherished, for who I was. You looked at me, I felt beautiful. You kissed me, and I felt like I was the only thing in the world that mattered to you. Your love made me love _myself_. It made me real to myself. It was your encouragement, your affection, telling me all the time how proud you were of me, and how strong and capable I was. Because of you I understood the exact opposite of what Dad was trying to teach us--I knew that there _are_ worse things than trying and failing, or abandoning something outworn once you've learned what you needed to know about it. Things like not exploring your potentials, or not trying. I know you weren't even three years older, but it was you who raised me, not Dad. You gave me what a parent is supposed to give--unconditional love, even if otherwise we were brothers, equals-- 

JIM: Then we raised each other. You gave me that, too. 

STEPHEN: (nods slowly) I guess we did. You...you sheltered my soul so that it could become strong as I grew, you made it so that none of the shit we went through could stunt me, turn me into another Dad, or worse. And when you left...(his voice catches, and Jim can't look at him, his gaze dropping to the floor in front of him) ...oh, God, Jim, it hurt like hell, I'll never be able to deny that. But by the time you left, I was already strong enough that not even all of his condescension, his contempt, could break me. Your love had made me too strong. 

JIM: It's no excuse. That was you, your strength, not me, that held you together after I left you. 

STEPHEN: My strength came from being loved so much while I was growing up. (STEPHEN smiles softly) Remember the night Dad tore me a new one for...hell, I don't remember, one of the many ways I was such a fucking disappointment to him, bad grade or something--that night in bed, after you rocked me until I stopped crying, you literally told me I was perfect. That if you had the chance to change anything at all about me, you wouldn't even try, because I was perfect, because I was me. 

JIM: I don't deserve to...just be forgiven out of hand after what I did to you. How can you be so... 

STEPHEN: It's the truth. 

JIM: You cursed me up one side and down the other for leaving you, for lying to you-- 

STEPHEN: Yes, I did, I won't deny I was angry and I won't deny that I had good reasons to be, but they aren't the reasons you're trying to tell us, here. I may have cursed you then, but now I bless you for having loved me enough to leave me when it was time. You may have been the one old enough to go, but I know it didn't hurt you any less just because you were the one to take action. If I'd been the older one, I couldn't have left you, no matter what the threat to you was. I think we both know you could have managed to control yourself. It was me who was the danger. Toward the end, I was the one luring you into trying all those crazy stunts. I _wanted_ to be caught, because I hated the injustice of having to lie about us. Like the gay analogy again--Dana says it's a common thing with gay teenagers, too--going right up to the edge of being found out because of their hurt and outrage at having who they really are be considered something so foul that even their own parents won't accept them. Wanting to force the issue, _make_ them accept it. That was me. And I _was_ going to end up getting us caught. You were strong enough to realize that truth, but I fought knowing it. And then... (shakes his head, eyes still locked with Jim's) We would have been separated anyway, one way or another, and it could have ruined both our chances for what we wanted out of life. 

JIM: But I don't deserve...waltzing back into your life after what I did when you tried to get in touch with me--fifteen _years_ after you tried to get in touch with me. And you just accepted it. You let me...be around, be your brother again, at least in name. But you never pushed me, or demanded any explanations, until _I_ forced the issue. I can't believe what I did to you, Stephen. I just can't...and your forgiving me only makes it worse. 

STEPHEN: Well, that didn't happen overnight, as you'll recall. How many different names did I call you the first time we talked about it? 

JIM: Not nearly as many as I deserved, even though I was defensive about it. 

STEPHEN: Jim, what you told yourself, and me, and everybody else, was the truth. You did leave to protect me, far more so than to make things easier on yourself. Sure, you had a lot of fear about the situation, and that was partly responsible for the things you did, too, but it wasn't the whole reason. You left me because you loved me, and you didn't come back because you thought your love for me was...was something that would hurt me rather than nourish me. Maybe you were in denial about still being in love with me; that doesn't mean you weren't still _trying_ to act in my best interests. Okay, you were pretty damn misguided, but it was still me you were looking out for. You wanted me...(his voice roughens) ...wanted me so much--the _easy_ thing would have been to come back to me and take up where we left off. You put yourself through so much hell that you finally had to bury the feelings under a steel bunker that could have withstood a nuclear attack, you did it just so that I wouldn't be exposed to something you felt I shouldn't be exposed to because it might complicate my life, and you can honestly believe that your motives were _selfish_? Jim, that does not compute. 

(a pause) 

JIM: (quietly) Well...I guess Dana and I have a lot of work to do on my guilt complex, then, don't we? (He manages a faint smile; STEPHEN, RAFE and BLAIR all smile, too.) 

STEPHEN: I guess you do. (He caresses JIM's cheek) We all do. We're all here for you, Jim. We're all a part of this. 

JIM: (sniffs and wipes his eye impatiently) If you guys try to group-hug me, I'll paste every one of you in the teeth. Right after I puke on the rug. 

STEPHEN: (grinning, as RAFE, BLAIR and DANA variously smile or chuckle) We know better than to try something like that without getting you seriously drunk first. Anyway, somehow, someday, we're going to manage to pry the weight of the world off your shoulders, and you can stop feeling responsible for every drop of rain that falls. To coin a phrase, you ain't Jesus, buddy. You're just a guy who's made some pretty big mistakes in regard to his brother--but _not_ the ones you're thinking--but I've made my share, too. 

JIM: Never. You've never done anything wrong, never done anything to me... 

STEPHEN: Jim, come on, I sure as hell ain't Jesus, either. Christ, if anybody ever worshiped anybody around here, you've always been the one worshipping _me_. Perfect little Stevie, who can do no wrong... God, if you'd been my mother I'd have been a total, insufferable brat. But you tempered the love with the occasional kick in the pants when I needed it, and I'll always be grateful for that, too. As much as for the love we had. That we still have. 

JIM: It's...gonna take some time, Stevie. I can't just...drop it like a rock. It's too big a part of who I am now, all that...guilt, responsibility. 

DANA: That goes without saying, Jim. We aren't here for the purpose of dismantling your personality. The best we can do is help you learn to cope with things more productively, rather than through escape hatches, barriers and defense mechanisms. And you're right; it isn't going to be easy. I can give you one quick piece of advice; when someone close to you tries to cut you a break, give you a little slack, offers you some understanding...let them. Just go ahead and accept it. You do deserve it. For a while, just concentrate on trying to believe that. Can you do that for me? 

JIM: (slow nod) I can try. But...being a cop and all... 

DANA: As I said, your sense of responsibility will always be a part of you. It serves you and the people you protect. All we want to do here is give you a little more control over it. 

JIM: (nods again) 

RAFE: (tries to hide a yawn behind his hand) Ahem. 'Scuse me. 

JIM: (smirks at him) Somebody's missing his beauty sleep. 

RAFE: (grinning) Bite me, Ellison. 

JIM: Well, he's got a point, anyway. I...I don't think the panic attacks will be back any time soon. Like I said, I'm sorry to drag everybody out; let's all go back to bed, what do you say? 

RAFE: Come spend the night at my place, you and Blair. Might be helpful to have a couple more friendly bodies around, just to be safe. 

BLAIR: Good idea. Thanks, Brian. 

(The four of them get up and gather jackets and such; DANA stands as well, and extends a hand to JIM.) 

DANA: You did some excellent work tonight, Jim. May I suggest a break of some kind? Head to the mountains this weekend, maybe. Just try to relax, clear your head a little, get re-energized. 

JIM: (smiling faintly) Yeah. I may just do that. Thanks, Dana. 

STEPHEN: Yeah. Thanks. (kisses DANA on the cheek, giving her a one-armed hug. RAFE and BLAIR also bid her good night, and the four of them file out the door.) 

DANA: (yawns, stretches, and closes her notebook. She sets it on the desk, picks her coat up from a chair back and pulls it on, picks up her purse, and leans down to shut the lamp off. She picks up the notebook again, goes to the door and closes it behind her. Moonlight through the windows faintly illuminates the silent office. There is the sound of wind in the trees outside.) 

**FADE OUT**

S  
P  
O  
I  
L  
E  
R 

S  
P  
A  
C  
E 

F  
O  
R 

W  
A  
R  
N  
I  
N  
G 

In this series, Jim and Stephen Ellison had a loving and consensual sexual relationhip while in their teens, and have begun one again as adults. 


End file.
